#and i wake early less nowadays but i love when i get up early and i wish i could do so more but i hate sleeping too early lol

[astrxealis]

astarion... the man that you are.....

[luveline]

could you write bombshell!reader getting a tattoo of spencer’s name or something that reminds her of him and his reaction please?

“Why are you kissing me?” you mumble, your voice hoarse with sleep. 

They’re light kisses. “I’m going now,” Spencer says, matching your quiet tone. 

“No.” 

You wrap your arm behind his neck and feel his hair against your wrist. His nose and lips warm your jaw. 

“Yes.” He kisses your jaw. “I have to go, but I didn’t wanna leave without a kiss.” 

That’s really sweet, he’s so sweet, you’re so tired. “Please don’t go, Spencer.” 

“I have to go.” He readjusts your hugging to hum against your temple, distinctly content despite your pleading. “I’ll be back by six for dinner, promise.” 

“Promise,” you say.

You get to keep him for a few minutes, regardless. His neck must sing bent as he is over you but he doesn’t relent, doesn’t move until you encourage his face back to kiss just under his bottom lip. “Sorry, I’m making you late,” you whisper. 

“No, no, I accounted for this. You’re on my agenda.” 

“How much time did you allot?” you ask through a smile. 

“Seventeen minutes. That’s how long we usually hug in the morning.” 

“Gotta get that time down,” you say. 

“Or up.” He holds your face. You turn your head into his touch and keep him for just another half a minute. 

“Okay,” you mumble, letting your eyes flutter closed again, “you can leave, I’m gonna go back to sleep.” 

“Good idea.” He kisses you, and he says goodbye. You’re sleeping again before he’s even left your room

When you wake properly, you still feel loved, like a sunburn but with less stinging. There’s something very special about your boy; something permanent about the way he loves. You can’t imagine he’ll ever stop loving you like this, he’s embedded you so deeply into his life and his routines (and you’d beg him to keep you if he ever changed his mind). That in itself is crazy. You can’t have imagined begging a guy to let you stay, but for Spencer, you would.  

When he comes home that night, half an hour before six, you have no regrets. 

You hadn’t noticed how he was dressed when he left, but he looks lovely in just a simple t-shirt and jeans. Remarkably casual for him, you used to think he only wore t-shirts to bed, but the older he gets the better propensity he has for comfort. What makes it for you is the cardigan. 

“You look nice,” you praise, more than satisfied when the first thing he does after he takes off his shoes is lean down to hug you where you’re sitting on his couch. 

“Thank you.” He pats your back and pulls away. “You’re beautiful,” he says with ease, like he’s commenting on the weather. “Good day?” 

Your lips pucker into a twist. 

“What?” he asks. 

Unfortunately, he sounds deeply worried. 

“No, it’s nothing, I just hurt my arm. Can you have a look?” 

Spencer takes your arm. “What did you do?” he asks, pulling the sleeve of your shirt carefully up to your elbow. The Saran wrap confuses him, until it doesn’t, and he grins at your skin, before frowning again. His flickering emotions worry you, until he says, “Is that mine?” 

You hold your arm in the light. “Of course it’s yours?” 

It’s just a few words from a note he wrote you, perhaps too soon into your relationship for sweetness, and yet one you kept anyways. He told you the story of the I Love You lighthouse, or rather, the Minot Ledge lighthouse, and how the man who lived there had to live on a different island to his family while tending the lighthouse, so he would flash the light once, then four times, and then three times, one flash for every letter of each corresponding word: I love you. The note was left on your dresser. You’d slept together the night before, but he had to leave early. Nowadays he wakes you up, but  back then he’d been too shy. 

I want to be able to do that for you but I can’t find a lighthouse in D.C. that will let me in to try. I’ll keep looking. 

“I’ll keep looking,” Spencer reads. His thumb heistates just under your small font.

“It’s from that note you left me.”

“I know, I remember.” He does his awful frowny face where his eyelids lower and you're sure he’ll never smile again, he looks that upset. “You know this is permanent?”

“They do tend to be,” you say with a lovelorn sigh. 

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I should kiss you, or hug you, or… I don’t know why you’d do this.”

“But it’s okay?” you ask. It could make for a very awkward conversation if he doesn't like it.

“It’s perfect.” He holds your gaze. “You’re perfect.”

He acts like your tattoo is a gaping wound as he moves in to hug you, careful of your new ink, but relentless in the tightness of his arms behind your back. You laugh, then squeal at his insistence, a giggly girly thing that nobody else should ever hear but him. He doesn’t make fun of you, just squeezes you to him, his face pressed so hard to yours you can feel his cheekbones. 

“Now I just have to say something romantic for you to get tattooed and we’ll be equal again.’

“So we aren’t equal?”

“Um, no way.” Your laugh is self-satisfied and breathless. You turn your lips to his cheek. “I love you. I’m gonna build you a lighthouse.”

“Can’t believe you kept that note.”

“I have a whole shoebox of them. I love that you write them.”

He stops holding himself up, half on the couch and half in your lap as he hugs you with every bit of strength in his arms.

[justauthoring]

Just to be Enough [1]

a series of snapshots of your life with geto and gojo -> this part: what if geto had called you that night?

a/n: this will more or less just be a collection of different one shots of potential moments of a relationship with geto and gojo. sometimes the plotline might change :)

pairing: satosugu x f!reader, shoko x f!reader

read the other parts here: one - two - three - four

-

His hands were shaking.

Part of you thought yours were as well.

You weren’t sure what to say – what was there to say? Being awoken by a call from Geto at three in the morning certainly wasn’t how you’d expected your day off to start; nor was the shakiness of Geto’s voice something you’d ever expected to hear. He was always confident, in your many years of knowing him that was something you’d come to expect – the unwavering confidence that both him and Gojo displayed no matter where they were, what they were talking about or what was happening.

He’d sounded afraid and distressed and on the brink of… you weren’t even sure what. Your heart pounded with fear of just exactly what.

Two girls. That’s all he’d manage to utter. Something about two little girls, locked and beaten and… his voice was twisted with something terribly painful and he was breathing heavily, words mixing together with his panic. You swear you’ve never called for Ijichi so quickly, now in a state yourself; enough that you hadn’t even had the politeness to feel sorry for waking the poor man up so early and abruptly.

It was when you were in the back seat of the car that you called Gojo.

“Something’s wrong with Suguru.”

“...what’s wrong?”

He’s away on a mission of his own. Just like he always was nowadays. It had been hard on your relationship, always missing one piece to make you all whole; but you understood, just like you understood that Geto was called on just as many missions. It was something you’d long ago come to terms with if you were going to be with the two strongest sorcerers, and you had no doubt about what that meant in terms of being physically with them.

Perhaps he’d answered, despite being on a mission, so quickly because, like you, he’d noticed the steady decline of Geto over the past few months like you had. Noticed but deflected every time you’d tried to ask. You’re a sorcerer yourself, and while you might not be as strong as them or sent on as many missions, you know the strain it puts on one's well being. You see it in yourself, in them, in your friends. 

It seems Gojo did as well.

And, if truth be told, not a single one of you had made it out of that mission last year the same.

It had taken you a second to reply, mainly because you weren’t sure how to. “I don’t know,” you confessed with a choked breath, “he just called me, said he found two girls. Satoru, they’d been locked in a cage, starving and with bruises all over them. I tried to get him to calm down enough to tell me where he was. But he sounded…. wrong.”

There’s an echoing pause, then; “you’re on your way now?”

You nod, even though he can’t see. “Yeah.”

“Okay, I'll be there.”

You hear the sound of him pulling away, as if to hang up; you can’t stop yourself from crying; “Toru!”

There’s a moment of silence before you hear him respond, rather softly; “yeah?”

“I’ve never heard him sound like that, Toru. I’m scared about what I’ll find when I get there.”

It feels wrong to admit – why would you be scared to see Geto? A boy you’ve loved since you’d first walked into class on your first day at Jujutsu Tech and laid eyes on him? But you are, terribly so; your hearts racing and it feels like you can’t breathe the closer and closer you get. You don’t know how to help – that was the whole issue of it all; how? How can you help him? How can you make it better?

What if you didn’t?

“I’m gonna be home soon, okay, Y/N/N?” Gojo whispers, gently; so opposite of how he normally sounds. “We’ll figure it out together, yeah? Just get him home.”

You nod, once again, “okay,” you whisper.

“I love you.”

“Love you too, Toru.”

You’re pulled up next to Geto ten minutes after that.

He’s standing there, the jacket of his uniform taken off, left bare in his white button up and slacks. When your eyes flicker lower, to the two little girls standing beside him, you find his jacket wrapped around the two of them; big enough to envelop them fully, huddled together. As you pull up beside him, stopping just in front, you first notice the girls; bruises and scuffs marked all over their skin, what little clothing they have on them ripped, dirty and clearly old, and then you see their big, wide, afraid eyes staring back at your own and your heart breaks.

When you raise your gaze, you meet Geto’s. He’s already staring at you, but his expression is blank; like he’s staring right through you.

You send a nod Ijichi’s way before opening the door, slipping out into the cool night air.

The girls are watching you carefully, shuffling closer to Geto, clearly scared of you, and as you stand fully, letting the door shut gently behind you not to scare them, you glance at Geto just briefly before crouching, so you’re at eye-level with the girls.

“My name’s Y/N,” you introduce softly, voice extra quiet so as not to spook them. “I’m Suguru’s friend. What are your names?”

They glance at each other, slowly, unsure, before looking up at Geto. He nods, a simple, silent gesture and then, as if relaxing, their tensed bodies ease and the lighter haired one speaks up first; “i’m Nanako and this is Mimiko,” she introduces her sister for her, and when you glance at the twins, it’s clear who protects who. The thought brings a smile to your lips, thinking back fondly to memories of your past, and nod.

“Those are such pretty names,” you smile, eyes crinkling with warmth. “Are you both cold?”

Nanako nods slowly, and you watch as Mimiko’s lips tremble.

“It’s nice and warm in the car, and there’s a nice man named Ijichi who’ll give you some snacks, okay?”

They look to Geto for guidance once more, and all it takes is one more simple nod before Nanako is eagerly grabbing Mimiko’s hand, pulling her sister forward just as you open the car door. They clamber in, and you adjust Geto’s jacket around them better as they huddle to the middle of the back seat, still holding tightly onto one another, before you let the door shut gently.

Left with Geto, silence echoes as you slowly push yourself up.

Then, with a shaky breath, Geto whispers; “I wanted to slaughter them all.”

His words scare you, but you force yourself to swallow down the fear, reminding yourself who this is and where you are. So, with a small step forward, you close the gap that had existed between both you and Geto, licking your lips. “The village?”

He nods.

“They did that to them?”

Once again, a nod.

“They would’ve deserved it.”

Geto blinks at that, shocked you’d agree with him. “...what?”

“I’m not going to tell you that you’re wrong, because… you’re not,” you confess with a shuddering breath. The worlds feel wrong even if you believe them. There was a time that the simple thought of death upon anyone, even the worst of scum, would’ve made you feel ill. But now, it didn’t always feel so wrong — at least not in thought. Not in the deepest, darkest parts of your mind.

“But you didn’t,” you add, closing the gap completely between the both of you. You take a leap, ignoring your uncertainty and fear and everything in between and take his hand in your own, squeezing. “That’s what’s important.”

“But I wanted to.”

You meet his eyes and finally see something in it — a glimpse of hope, maybe. There’s something other then empty in those eyes, even for just a second, and you grab onto it, tightly, knuckles white as hope floods you because that was all you needed. 

Geto wasn’t gone.

“I’ve wanted to,” you confess, and it isn’t hard to know who and what you mean. “But I didn’t either. Do you think I’m a bad person?”

And his answer is instant; “no.”

“You aren’t either.”

His gaze lowers, and you think that’s all that can be said. At least now. Right now, those two little girls are important. Shoko’ll need to see them and when you get back to the school, Gojo will be there and he’ll help. You’re sure of it.

“Let’s go home,” you whisper, threading your fingers through his own. “Okay, Suguru?”

-

Gojo almost looks mad.

But one look at you, and his features soften, tense shoulders fading and he’s forced to remind himself of something maybe he just doesn’t quite understand. 

He’s never been good with words, at least not when it came to comforting. Not when it came to things like this.

So he doesn’t say anything.

After Shoko had checked the girls, and assured bith you and Geto that despite bruising, they were okay. They’d need water and food, but most importantly, sleep. 

You tuck them into your bed.

Geto is silent the entire time. He doesn’t say anything, just stands behind you, his presence is always there. There’s moments you catch, just faintly, where one of the girls will look at him and he’ll smile with a softness you’ve only ever seen directed at you or Gojo.

It fills you with a warmth, and that glimmer of hope you don’t want to lose.

The second he’s sure they’re okay and fast asleep, he slips out of your dorm and heads straight to his. A moment passes before you follow him, and when you finally reach him, he’s in his bed, back turned with the covers pulled up, as if hiding himself from everyone.

You stand there, watching, for ten minutes before Gojo arrives.

It takes him only one minute, after your look and after his acceptance to step forward, slipping into Getos much too small bed to carry two six feet tall men. But it doesn’t stop Gojo. He pulls the covers, slips underneath and presses his face into Getos back. It’s oddly soft for Gojo, caring in a way that words aren’t needed and comforting in a way only possible for him.

You feel distant from them in that moment.

You didn’t know how to help. What to say, what to do. You did what you thought was right, but it still hadn’t felt enough. Sure, you’d gotten Geto home, but he’d still been distant, cold and that look in his eyes still remained strikingly blank and gone.

Yet, you watch as the simple touch of Gojo relaxes Geto’s shoulders and he seems to ease, as if some, if not all, of the anxiety just washes away.

It hurts while comforts you.

You turn to leave, even if it’s your bed; maybe Shokos still up and—

“Y/N.”

Your body freezes, head slowly turning at the sound of Geto’s voice. He’s not spoken one word to you since you’d found him. 

He’s looking at you, meeting your eyes directly and one of his arms is stretched out towards you, as if inviting you.

Lips parting, you hesitate.

“Please.”

That’s all it takes. Your feet are moving before your mind can process, rushing towards the bed with an unfamiliar urgency. You’re desperate for acceptance. Desperate to help and comfort and be there for Geto — because that’s all you want. All you ask for. You just want to help.

He’s grabbing onto your arm the second he can, tugging you to the other side of him, back pressing against the wall your bed is pushed up against and your chest pressed against Geto’s own as he wraps his arms around your waist. You lay there for a moment, before Geto’s pulling you closer, a hand pressing to the back of your head so you’re leaning into the crook of his neck.

Everything washes away then, the warmth of Geto soothing you.

And the words he utters next could make you cry;

“Thank you.”

His words echo in the silence, and then, your eyes flicker upwards, meeting Gojo’s. His gaze is already on your own, soft, warm and there’s a smile on his face.

Everything’s okay then, you realize.

Geto’s home and so is Gojo, and you did help.

You did.

[cuecrynsleep]

Reconnecting the Past

Amangela | Reunion AU!

Chapter 15: Routinely Calls

Amanda and Angela start to fall into a routine with Amanda later texting Shayne about news.

Disclaimer: This is not meant to be a representation of those in Smosh, rather a fan made perspective on the characters they portray online. Remain respectful.

← Ch. 14 | Ch. 16 → | Masterlist

────────────────────

"Okay I am starting the car," Angela, all but announced the moment the call connected.

"Thank you for the play by play Angela," Amanda teased. "I really needed it."

"Well, I don't know what else to say," she uttered. Shuffling was heard over the speaker, a light beeping noise coming from Angela's car as she presumably reversed out of her driveway. "What are you up to, anyway? It's early."

"I'm doing my hair. I finished getting dressed and my makeup earlier." Amanda said, her phone set down on the sink counter as she brushed through her long hair a final time.

"What the?" Angela said. "You're already ready? Doesn't your thing start at like 9?"

"Yeah, but it's fine. Tommy and I will probably arrive early," Amanda shrugged. She gathered up her stuff, checking through her bag a final time. "I'm used to waking up early for this, so might as well."

"I think you're just insane," Angela commented. "I understand getting ready early, but you know you can just stay behind in your hotel and watch TV."

"It feels awkward to do when I have filming today," Amanda said, her phone to her ear and off speaker as she made her way to the elevator. "I like leaving stuff like that for after work."

There was a brief pause before Angela spoke. "Oh, I get that. I feel like it's easier to start doing stuff like that in your downtime once you have a better work and personal life balance."

"True," Amanda commented. "I'll be better at it once I'm back in California."

"Sometimes I forget you do still live there," Angela admitted. "Like we started talking again and then suddenly you're in Canada."

Amanda texted Tommy as another person entered the elevator, she shuffled deeper into the corner, her voice softer as she spoke. "Well I'm bound to be back there within July," she paused. "Hopefully."

"Tell your work they suck at scheduling," Angela teased.

"Trust me, they know."

"How's filming nowadays?" Angela asked.

Amanda couldn't stop herself from sighing. "It's fine all things considered." She ended up leaving it at that, waiting for Angela to either comment or change the topic.

"Jesus Christ," Angela mumbled, her voice still clearly heard despite that not being her intention. "There's way too many cars here."

"You're driving in LA, Ange. That's a given." Amanda replied, as she navigated her way through a busy hotel lobby. She initially planned on waiting in one of the chairs but based on the multiple people checking in and out, she decided to cut her losses.

There was another pause, a brief car honk heard in the background. "Are you outside already?" Angela asked. "You really want to get there early."

"Oh, quiet," Amanda rolled her eyes. "What are you up to nowadays?"

"Well, you know, filming for the second short film and the improv group. The usual," Angela said. "I am getting closer to the people in the improv group though, so I'm happy for that."

"I'm glad, it's always good to make friends or at least colleagues in stuff like that."

As minutes passed by Amanda waited for Tommy to join her out in the front. The uber already ordered for the two five minutes ago. Throughout the call Angela ended up rambling about this one improv scene she absolutely loved doing. As Amanda listened, the corners of her mouth twitched upwards into an uncontrollable smile. She sucked her lips into her teeth, simply enjoying the moment.

There was just something about listening to Angela ramble about something she loved that was comforting. Her glances at the road waiting for the Uber to arrive becoming less frequent. As she let herself be lulled into a story about an admittedly funny scene, she failed to notice the door opening and the approaching footsteps.

"Who has you smiling at your phone like that?" Amanda heard Tommy's teasing voice, a hand on her shoulder bringing her back to the present.

"Oh my god!" Amanda practically yelped, unintentionally interrupting Angela. She turned towards Tommy immediately. "I did not see you coming."

Tommy chuckled. "Yeah," he said. "I can see that."

Angela's voice is quietly heard over the phone. Amanda isn't even sure if Tommy can hear her. "Amanda? You good? Mandy?"

"So," Tommy said, he pointed to her phone. "A friend? Boyfriend? Hookup?"

"The first one," Amanda said, just about to reply to Angela.

"You'll be busy soon. I'm going to be hanging up now." Another quiet shuffle is heard. "Good luck in filming."

Angela left the call, Amanda being left by herself before she clicked off. "Well, I was going to introduce you two, but guess not." She checked the time, failing to realize how much time had passed. "Then again she does have to get to filming soon.”

[layover94]

remembered i can disneypost on here to my heart's content. well.

Very excited to log on tomorrow and see a bunch of twt and youtube reactions to (and informative posts about) today's union march on harbor blvd as hype for the impending union vote on striking. iirc the vote will be on the 19th among 14k dlr union members, out of ~35k total cast members… if you ask me the ratio of unionized cast members should be so much higher and i think that's part of the point of running a march/protest on disneyland's anniversary, to wake up the cast members who are too bought into the lore and magic and Walt's Legacy of it all… i read that today's march intended to go from harbor to the main entrance of disneyland but dlr security and anaheim pd didn't let the protesters onto the esplanade. Lmao. i really hope that the union gains a lot of members and definitively votes for a strike on the 19th bc it's very deserved, it's insane how little cast members make while being expected to perform above and beyond literally any other service worker you've ever met in your life lmao and that gap only gets worse and worse in current year amid budget cuts to entertainment, hours, even concierge and guest complaint services… a drop in cast member service/attitude has been noticeable to us and we literally don't even mind it lmao because in the early 2000s the pay was way better so expecting a crazy disneyfied level of service was more reasonable BUT nowadays there's blatant cost-cutting and evil behaviors everywhere so i don't fucking care that the random cast member bringing me some french fries this year wasn't hyper-courteous and outperforming every mcdonalds worker i've ever met in my life, because in current year i know that they're not even making any more than a donowslave while being held to an exponentially higher standard…

if disney has any hope of maintaining its brand reputation ESPECIALLY parkswise then it better fucking listen to its union members and start improving things. widely-reported low crowds from non-locals and non-diehards this summer should be showing them that they can't keep price-gouging people forever… my last visit a few weeks ago was literally the first time in my ENTIRE LIFE that disneyland closed before 1am in the summer. it was literally like disruptive and disturbing, bc leaving the back of the park at 12am to then meander through the main street shops until 1am has been the habit SINCE I WAS BORN but this year, disney is so desperate for a high profit margin that they're cutting hours, cutting services, hiking prices, etc even during their peak travel times. hello? fuck you? literally anyone can look at your stock price, your box office gross, your ticket prices vs hours served, to determine disney's overall profit margin and yet you still shamelessly act this way. disney adults exist for a REASON and it's because there used to be a standard of service and quality offered to barely-middle-class and up families that gave them unbelievably memorable experiences that made them want to keep coming back and chasing that high for the rest of their lives. i love disneyland because i've loved it since i was 6 years old and most of it hasn't changed since i was 6 years old and in the intervening years i've grown to appreciate with adult eyes the creativity and engineering feats and Also the childish whimsy that has gone into creating the things i've loved ever since i was 6 years old. but when it costs over a hundred fucking dollars to spend one day in the park, when i vividly remember (even as a child with little sense of money!) it costing much less than $100, it just feels like ticket scalping lmao and to know that clearly those price hikes don't even go to the cast members who make the everyday operations of the park as good as they are? instead it all goes to the execs who keep closing and fucking up all my favorite rides? oh i'm out for blood. i truly hope that every single union member strikes and that disneyland SUFFERS immensely trying to stay open and ignore the strike. i hope it's a bloodbath and utterly humiliating for the company. cast members deserve everything, execs deserve nothing

[quietwings-fics]

you do not have to be good

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Fandom: Supernatural Ship: Lucifer/Nick/Sarah Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Babies, Polyamory, Consensual Possession, Past Abuse, Domestic, Fluff and Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, She/Her Pronouns for Lucifer (Supernatural), i sprinkle a little gender into your devil. just for fun., Forehead Kisses, POV Female Character, Lucifer Possessing Nick (Supernatural), Agender Lucifer (Supernatural) Wordcount: 2,533 Series: you, me, and the devil makes three Summary:

Lucifer gets out of the Cage too early to start the Apocalypse. So, obviously, Sarah and Nick invite her to stay.

It’s a cloudy night. The see-through curtains take on the appearance of shrouds when the moon is too dim to pierce through them. They bought them to let enough light into their room for Nick to sleep easier, but on nights like this, it’s hard for Sarah to even see her hand in front of her face without turning on a lamp. She knows Nick isn’t in the bed with her before she turns over and feels the empty sheets on her husband’s side. She’d fallen asleep with his arms around her, tucked close to substitute touch for sight. He is gone, and the baby monitor on his bedside is humming with soft static, the noise rising and falling in a way that’s almost familiar but by rhythm alone, Sarah can’t place it.

Sarah sits up, rubbing at her eyes and then dragging her hand through her hair. The susurration of the monitor continues steadily as she gets to her feet. It’s taken time to become reacquainted with her own body. She’s only recently begun to be able to stand up without reminding herself to compensate for a baby she’s no longer carrying. She picks up the monitor and turns it off to save the batteries, even if only for a brief trip, and when she places it back down, she pauses. Nick keeps his anxiety medication where he’ll see it when he wakes up, or else he’ll forget to take it. She turns the little bottle over in her hand and hears the rattle of four, or maybe five, pills left inside.

She makes a mental note about a refill and sets it back down. She leaves their bedroom. Their house gets chilly at night nowadays and never more than pleasantly cool in the daylight. It sends goosebumps up her arms, makes her wish that she’d kept a few of those maternity clothes rather than switching back to sleeping in her old band tee’s the minute she could squeeze herself into them again. They were ugly as anything, but they had been warm. Still, she’s a few feet from their room already. She considers going back for socks but carries on. The nursery has carpeted floors, a small blessing for cold feet.

It’s not a long walk, and Sarah’s body adjusts to the chill with practiced ease. It has become a part of their home rather than an unwanted feature. The doorway to the nursery is marked by one of her grandmother’s paintings on the opposite wall. It’s a lovely scene, green and comfy. Sarah’s grandmother favored landscapes. Sarah’s mother was disappointed when Sarah herself inherited the talent but wasted it on ‘petty vandalism and the occult’. Her grandmother could have cared less and gave her art supplies for her birthday until the year she died. That’s why Sarah wanted to name Teddy after her.

She pauses in the doorway and watches. Someone who looks like her husband stands over Teddy’s crib. Her husband’s arms hold their baby, and her husband’s voice is the one singing to him. Finally, with the words put to it, Sarah recognizes the rhythm from the monitor.

“Hush, little baby, don't say a word.” Teddy coos sleepily and grasps at an offered finger. “Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird.” She wonders if Teddy has a song preference yet. The softest lullabies Sarah can sing him are all Bowie. Nick, bless his heart, has a pretty voice but can’t carry a tune to save his life. She sees the person standing over the crib raise their head to look at her, still singing. Yes, those are her husband’s eyes, but that is not her husband.

Sarah smiles and steps into the nursery.

Lucifer watches her approach, head tilted slightly. She wears Nick’s expressions well, but her mannerisms are always off, a mixture of movements she might have picked up from Sarah and her own alien way of guiding the human body. Teddy burbles, and Lucifer’s attention is stolen away again, no words to the song but a gentle hum to replace it as she rocks Teddy back and forth.

“Theodore was crying,” Lucifer says, finally, as Sarah reaches her side. She says it matter-of-factly, but the way her eyes dart to see Sarah’s reaction make it seem like she’s making an excuse. For what, Sarah can’t tell.

“Was he hungry?” Sarah asks. Lucifer shakes her head.

“He was lonely. He needed to be held.” Lucifer is very careful with Teddy, careful in the way she holds him, careful in how she moves when he’s in her arms. Even careful when she rubs two fingers along the top of Teddy’s head against the fuzz that can’t truly be called hair yet. Sarah has no doubt Nick is guiding some of those actions, like someone teaching you by folding their hands over yours. “You should still be asleep.”

“I could hear you singing over the baby monitor,” Sarah says. It’s mostly true. If Lucifer was only a person, than she would have. Instead, Lucifer is an angel, and her voice gets cloaked in static over the radio waves. Lucifer frowns. That expression is certainly borrowed from Nick, the little crease in his brow that Sarah has kissed plenty of times before to smooth out.

“I thought it was off. I must have touched it.” Electronic things all tend to work strangely when Lucifer lays a hand on them. On the other hand, living things seem to fare well enough. Teddy is falling asleep in Lucifer’s arms. Sarah reaches for him, and Lucifer hands him over to her without protest. Teddy squirms, but he doesn’t cry.

If you had told Sarah a year ago that she would have the devil for a co-parent, she... Well, she may not have believed a word out of your mouth, but she would still have been intrigued. Not afraid.

She wasn’t afraid when Lucifer alighted beside their bed to ask permission into Nick’s body, this strange, unearthly being that watched and waited as Nick and her conferred, never once interfering with their decision, and who Sarah faced with her husband’s hand clutched tight in her own to say, “You can, but on the condition that you bring him home safe.” However that old story went, to make sure the devil made a deal with you rather than the other way around, Sarah had listened and Sarah had learned. The devil regarded her with curiosity, and the devil promised to do exactly that. She is many things, but Sarah knew and knows, she is not a liar.

She wasn’t afraid when Nick was returned to her, untouched, a little shaken from the experience of being kept by something so great. She wasn’t afraid when he told her where they’d gone and why and how Lucifer had gone from self-assured in her purpose to confused to lost over the course of the three nights she took Nick. It’s too early, Nick had said, and he’d looked like he didn’t know what that meant any more than Sarah did. And then, in the same voice he’d used to convince her to foster a litter of puppies from the streets before they could be adopted, he’d said, Sarah, I don’t think she has anywhere else to go.

Sarah hadn’t known she was pregnant when they’d let Lucifer stay. By the time she did, the question of whether Lucifer could stick around wasn’t a question at all anymore. Lucifer refused to possess her for the duration of her pregnancy, and Nick agreed despite the toll it took on him. It’s a price they don’t pay any longer, both of them adapted to Lucifer’s grace no matter which she chooses to inhabit, but the scars of those long months before they found the solution are still scattered across Nick’s body. He wears them well, and he jokes sometimes that it’s only fair. Sarah got stretch marks from carrying Teddy. Nick got burns from containing Lucifer.

There’s one at his right temple, dark spots like someone flecked his skin with embers until they took root. Sarah settles Teddy fully in the crook of one arm to raise her hand. Lucifer twitches back from her touch at first, but then she tilts her head forward against Sarah’s fingers. Sarah feels out the change in texture from the scar to unmarred skin. Nick would shut his eyes as she traced it, but Lucifer keeps hers open, studying Sarah back as Sarah studies her.

“He’s your son, too. You don’t need permission to care for him,” Sarah tells her. When Sarah was a kid with parents who dropped her off at Sunday school, Satan was a shadow constantly scheming in unseen corners. When she was teenager who wore too much black and didn’t put in ear plugs for concerts because she wasn’t thinking that far ahead, Satan was cool and rebellious and everything she wanted, sometimes needed, to be. Sarah is an adult now, and Satan is a creature who can never go home and who sings to their son when he cries.

They let her in. Lucifer isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“I feel...” Lucifer trails off, looking for the right words. Sarah rocks Teddy again. He’s out cold, and with luck, he’ll sleep through the rest of the night. These first months were probably harder for parents who didn’t have an angel hovering over them, never needing sleep, ears tuned to hear Teddy cry out. Sarah leans down to place Teddy in his crib. She bows further to pick up the fluffy lamb toy that Nick bought him. It probably fell through the bars of the crib when Lucifer picked him up. She props it up at Teddy’s side and stands straight again. “I feel like I can’t miss any of it. Any moment.” Lucifer says, looking down at Teddy with her.

“Welcome to being a parent,” she teases. She knows what Lucifer is talking about. They’ve all felt it. There are a lot of things that books about taking care of an infant can prepare you for, but the mixture of fear and joy at something so fragile and so beautiful relying on you to raise it is not one of them. She wonders what it’s like for Lucifer, though. To be something around for the dawn of life, and to now be focused on one life out of all of them. Does it seem too fast for her? Too slow? Both at once?

“I need to spend time with him now,” Lucifer says, and something in her voice makes Sarah frown and look over at her, “before he gets older. Before he has a chance to disobey.”

“What are you talking about?” Sarah has very rarely seen Lucifer get upset. Nervous about Sarah’s pregnancy, and borderline in shock the first time she and Nick showed her the same love they showed each other, but those times were few and far between, born out of uncertainty. What disturbs Sarah now is that Lucifer sounds far too certain.

“When we’re forced to lock him away, we can send him with his toys, can’t we? And blankets? So that he doesn’t get cold.” It does not escape Sarah that Lucifer sounds like she’s pleading with her. It also doesn’t escape her that Lucifer says when.

“We’re never going to do that,” Sarah says and rushes to clarify when she sees Lucifer flinch. “We aren’t going to lock him away at all. You don’t do that to children.” Lucifer doesn’t meet her eyes.

“He’s not going to be small and sweet forever.”

“That’s good. We didn’t have him because we wanted a baby.” She steps closer to Lucifer, hovers her hand over Lucifer’s shoulder before letting it touch her. Lucifer doesn’t jolt this time. “We wanted a child. For all the good and the difficult parts that might bring. No one is going to lock him away because he has tantrums, or won’t eat all his greens, or slams doors and listens to music too loud.” She squeezes her shoulder. She sees Lucifer, but it’s Nick’s face she sees her through, and so there’s no way they could have this conversation without Sarah thinking about the obvious. “It’s probably not comparable to what you went through, but you’re not the only one here who had a rough childhood.” Lucifer tilts her head. “No, ask Nick. Not me. It’s his story to tell.”

Lucifer’s eyes go distant for a minute. Sarah observes the minute changes of her expression. Lucifer knows a lot about both of them, could not possess them without some things slipping between their minds, but she’s made an effort to let them keep what they mark as too personal to themselves. She may have a vague impression of Nick’s past, but that’s very different from being told directly about how he was kicked out at sixteen. It’s something that Sarah didn’t know about him for a long time. Nick came clean about the strange stuff his dad was obsessed with, salt lines and symbols to keep out evil, and about the fact that he didn’t actually know anyone from his dad’s side of the family at all before he ever told her about being homeless for nearly three years. As though it had been something he should have been ashamed of. As though it had been his fault somehow.

Sarah’s always been a bigger believer in destiny than he was. Nick found her and she found Nick because that was the right way for the world to be, and what a world they built together. And Lucifer found them, too, because maybe they were what she needed, even if they weren’t what she thought she would find. Lucifer blinks, focusing on Sarah again.

“You won’t do that to Theodore?” There is still a hint of uncertainty there.

“Come here,” Sarah says and gestures for Lucifer to bend down. She does, closing her eyes like she expects a kiss, and Sarah pushes herself to her tiptoes and lays one against Lucifer’s forehead instead. “We’re going to take care of him. Always.” Lucifer pulls back quickly, looks away, and between one inhale and the next, Sarah knows that she is not looking at Lucifer anymore. Nick looks a little startled to be in control, the way he always does, and she takes his hand and squeezes it to ground him. He swallows.

“She was thinking about- Not much of it I could understand, but the word cage, over and over, and...” Nick glances down at Teddy. He sleeps so peacefully while they talk about this. “Sarah, dear,” Nick says the word like he’s begging for a lifeline and Sarah gives it to him, comes close and lets Nick wrap his arms around her. He’s cold. They both are, when they hold their angel. Somewhere under his skin, Lucifer is hiding, and Sarah slides one arm wrapped around Nick up until her hand splays between his shoulderblades. Nick shivers and sucks in a breath.

It goes both ways. Sarah and Nick keep their secrets. Lucifer keeps hers.

But the more Sarah learns, the more glad she is that Lucifer is here with them, and not alone.

(Enjoyed it? Any interaction is welcomed. You can even support me on Ko-Fi <3)

[mrs-kodzuken]

hard to desire ⨟ kenma k.

chapter six

reflections the neighbourhood

❝We were too close to the stars

I never knew somebody like you, somebody

Fallin' just as hard

I'd rather lose somebody than use somebody❞

previous chapter next chapter

Kenma unbelievably felt awful after last night’s—technically this early morning—shenanigans. Getting out of bed at an unusual time this morning, he decided to subtly try and make it up to you without actually having to tell you what he did wrong.

The bitter air nipped at his tired skin. Kenma’s eyes were heavy after not sleeping his usual amount, his two-toned air was thrown up into a low ponytail which seems to be all he wears nowadays.

As he blew a breath out, watching the puff of air show in the cold air, he thought about which cafe you would favor breakfast and coffee from. The old Nekoma sweatpants he constantly wore now proudly had a hole where his knee was. 

Kenma wasn’t sure how exactly he was going to make it up to you, he’s barely talked with and only knows some things because of Kuroo himself. He was such a shit roommate to you; he cursed to himself. 

This morning when he peeked inside your room to check in on how you were doing, which is something he never ever thought he would be doing, you were sound asleep on your bed.

And yet, still holding tight to the hoodie he lent you hours before. He couldn’t handle his heart rate at the sight of you, especially after he’s been such a dick too. 

Kenma knew his best friend was bound to be home now and frankly, Kenma didn’t care if he woke him up at just an early hour.

He waited for Kuroo to pick up the phone, hearing the dialing and looking at the picture of him and Kuroo from high school as the contact.

“Hello?” Kuroo’s groggy voice entered the line, Kenma had definitely woken him up.

“What’s Y/n’s favorite coffee place?” Kenma asked him, still searching around for one that will taste so good, you’ll have no choice but to forgive him.

The guilt was eating him alive; he got shit sleep last night because of it too, tossing and turning all night and keeping an ear out to make sure you wouldn’t have any more nightmares had caused him to roughly get less than two hours of sleep before the painstakingly noise of his phone alarm awoke him.

“Huh? Kenma? Uhh, it’s.. I think ‘Sunrise Sips’? They always open super early.” Kuroo thought about it for a minute, trying to ground his bearings as he just woke up to the piercing cry of a ringtone. 

“Okay, thanks Kuroo. Sorry for waking you.” And with that, Kenma hung up before Kuroo could even ask what he was planning, or why he was even up in the first place, it was unusual.

‘How convenient�� Kenma thought about the cafe you loved being open so early.

Must’ve been your new one from last week when he noticed you hadn’t been sleeping very well. Kenma was very observant and that was something you have not realized yet.

As he neared the nicely made coffee shop, his eyes were drawn to the outside pop-up board that advertised a new special fall drink that he immediately knew you would love to try.

And with that, he went in, the warmth of the cafe soothing his cold skin. Now that he really thought about it, Kenma never has ever bought you coffee, despite the many many times you have done it for him. 

Has he really been this shit at showing you basic kindness?

He decided to grab breakfast for himself and reluctantly Kuroo too. With that notion he headed back to the shared apartment where he would begin his plan of making it up to you in his actions.

He already said an actual apology, but you had no clue what it was for and just clearing his mental space—his guilt—he would do this.

Kenma gently knocked on your bedroom door, he heard small comical noises coming from your room, assuming your TV was on. When a soft, ‘come in’ was heard, he smoothly opened your door.

He saw you in bed, snuggled up to your stuffed animals watching some show on your TV, his hoodie long forgotten on the floor. 

“I got you breakfast.” He merely stated, trying to hand you the meal he bought you. 

You, on the other hand, were completely surprised that Kenma, your roommate, the guy who seemed as of late that he hated your guts but admired you sexually, had bought you breakfast with a coffee from your newly favorite shop.

This was weird, actually beyond weird. 

“Uh, thank you?” It came out more as a question instead of a statement. You didn’t know what to do and Kenma’s hands had gestured again for you to take the cup and breakfast croissant. 

You gripped the warm bag out of his hands along with the coffee he got for you, setting them both on your nightstand. You stared at him awkwardly for a few, his eyes peering about your girlish room.

You watched as he took in your sheer baby pink curtains, the remnants of nail polish bottle you forgot to put away from last night on your desk, the ruffled covers from how rough you slept last night.

“Oh, I’m sorry you had to deal with me last night.” You dryly chuckled, remembering how you probably irritated Kenma with that mess. It was sort of strange but nice of him to sit here with you and comfort you back to your normal self. 

“Don’t mention it. I hope you like your breakfast, the drink is new.” Kenma said, still standing there awkwardly in the middle of your room. He looked a bit out of place.

“Okay, and thank you for breakfast. I really appreciate it, Kenma.” You smiled, you probably looked horrible just thinking about your appearance but you didn’t care at this moment. Kenma had done something nice for you and you relished in the feeling.

“You’re welcome.” And with that, Kenma dispersed himself, closing your bedroom door as gently as he opened it. 

It was honestly a surprise that the Kenma would do something like this for you. You couldn’t wait to talk to Keiji about this new found experience, his advice was working after all.

Speaking of which, you eyed your calendar and realized that fall break was literally right around the corner. It starts in a few days, actually. 

However, over the course of those next few days, Kenma had become… easier to be around. You noticed that he was doing things with the intent of you in mind, you realized that when you saw him leaving gifts for you with a little note card on the front with your name.

After you had asked Kuroo about it, he just said that Kenma shows his affection in other ways than usual. You didn’t let the word ‘affections’ get to you because of course it meant platonic, right? 

When you came home from class one day you saw a fall pajama set on your bed. It was so pretty and you had been eyeing it in the stores for a few weeks now. With no one to get you a boo basket, you were going to leave them be but to your surprise, Kenma bought them for you.

Which also, unfortunately, meant that Kenma was stuck with the other matching half of the set buried in his closet because God forbid Kuroo find those and tease him.

Another instance was when you had been studying in your bedroom, lounging around the apartment before it was time to take your online mid-term and smelt heaven. 

Kenma was in the kitchen baking your favorite fall pie, which also happened to be his favorite so he used that excuse.

You gasped, “Kenma! Did you make that?” You obviously knew he did because you still see excess flour on the counters and a pile of dishes in the sink as he was in the midst of cleaning up.

The apple pie was cooling off on the stove and it looked magnificent. Your mouth was watering already at the thought of a break from studying and a sweet little treat to pair with it. 

“Yeah, you can have some if you’d like? Kuroo eats it sometimes but he doesn’t really care for apple pie.” Kenma’s back was turned away from you as he cleaned the flour off the counters.

You headed over to the dishes, “Okay! Thank you, is apple pie your favorite pie? It’s definitely mine, especially when it has caramel drizzle.” You smiled, getting some of these dishes out of the way since you would rather do them than get back to the brain-numbing pain of studying.

“I do, this is my mom’s recipe.” And with that you paused, that was so sweet. Kenma must really adore his mom if he remembered her recipe and used it to bake.

“That’s so nice. My mom doesn’t really have any particular recipes that I fancy enough to keep to memory,” You chuckled, rinsing the dishes, making sure that you rolled up your fall pajama set that Kenma gave you. 

“My mom baked a lot and when I was old enough, I guess I just learned her recipes and now they’re like second nature to me.” You turned around and watched him get out the utensils to cut the pie and caught a peek at the smile on his face. Breathtaking, it always was to see Kenma smile.

Your heart was beating wildly at the sight and you had to turn back around and collect yourself before continuing the conversation.

“That’s sweet. You should show me some of the other things you can bake one day, I’d love to see them.” You finished rinsing the last few dishes and wiped your hands off.

A thought randomly struck at you, “Kenma, since you bought me those pjs, where’s the matching half?” You asked in genuine curiosity of where they could be, or if he had them.

His body straightened just a bit at that and your eyes lit up, “They’re.. They’re in my closet.” He muttered, knowing what you were going to ask about next.

“Oh my gosh! You have to put them on! Please, please?” You begged and even clasped your hands together too. You watched as he thought about it in his head.

“Fine.” Kenma wasn’t really sure why he agreed, maybe it was your pressuring him? However, he knew that wasn’t right.

Deep down he knew that as much as he wanted to continue the facade of hating you, he knew that the so-called hatred he’s told himself that he has for you was actually a deep feeling of likeness. 

You were surprised that Kenma actually said yes to putting on the matching sets. This was the first time since you both met that it’s been actually fun to talk with Kenma.

He was actually a really thoughtful person, and really vigilant as he figured out that you had been wanting this specific pair of pjs. 

Quickly, you rushed to your room to grab your phone because you had to take pictures of Kenma with his fall, aesthetically orange pjs on. The little pumpkins, leaves, and black cats stand out against the main color which is another reason why you love them. 

You also wanted to get a picture because Kenma’s hair was up as per usual but this time, it was severely messy. That made you wild inside, you loved his hair and almost had a specific thing that made you drawn towards it. 

When you heard Kenma come down the stairs, you swiftly set up your phone so you could get a small video of him in the pjs. 

“Oh Kenma! I absolutely love them. You should wear them more often! They look great with your complexion.” You said, admiring how they fit his taller frame. Being shorter than Kenma, the pjs fit okay on you but you didn’t care, they were comfortable enough to sleep and lounge around in. 

“Thanks, I just bought them for you though.” He said uninterested in the idea of him wearing them all the time.

However, he was trying to stop and gather himself because just you being right here, talking to him, taking a video of him, and telling him how you want to spend more time together one day to bake was all getting to his head. That was sending pink tinted flush to his cheeks and made him slightly half-hard too.

“Well, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. That’s understandable. I’m probably going to dig into this pie and continue studying then.” You smiled and gestured that he could take it off if he wanted.

“Well, have fun with that.” Was all Kenma could say before leaving. He wanted to say more but doesn’t really know how to keep nor start a conversation, especially when he’s trying to do this to rid himself of the guilt he caused himself after being responsible for your nightmares. 

“Will do!” You called from your spot, already hearing his feet pad along up the stairs. You weren’t ready to go back and do your mid-term but at least you had a video of Kenma to show for the small snippet of time you both shared that didn’t end up in an argument or nasty words.

That thought made your heart race again.

God, you needed to confide in someone about your feelings before you cracked into two. Not only was Kenma, naturally, super pretty and handsome for a guy—probably his mother’s features.

But he was also great at showing his affections that you kind of wished were not platonic. Now that you’re really thinking about it, you don’t even know why Kenma is doing all of this for you in the first place. 

‘Oh God,’ you thought and grabbed your phone, a plate of apple pie and sent Akaashi a quick text that was sure to get his attention. 

‘i think i have feelings for kenma’

And you left it at that as you shook off your nerves, took a breath in to forget about your feelings for a second, and did the last bit of your schoolwork.

After a quick meet up with Akaashi, you were told to try and talk to Kenma about your feelings. To which you said ‘Fuck no’ to. Keiji seemed adamant that your feelings were being reciprocated by Kenma in some shape, way, or form. 

The thought of actually sitting down with Kenma and trying to discuss that ‘oh, i think you’re hot and by the way, i like you’ is not going to work. As you walked up the complex stairs, tugging your jacket over your frame, you were met with Kenma entering his house key in the apartment.

“Oh, I didn’t know you left.” 

“I didn’t realize you were gone.”

You both had said in union, it made you cringe but give a half smile at him too. Curiosity got the better of you and before you knew it you were asking where he went.

“I was at Shoyo’s. We haven’t met up in a while.” Kenma stated, unlocking the door and letting you go in first. 

“Shoyo? I’ve never met him before.” You asked about him, you didn’t realize that Kenma had friends. You assumed since you saw him dressed up that particular day when you peeked into his room. 

“He’s a friend from high school. We used to have matches together between our schools.” Kenma seemed to have fond memories of his high school days, you thought as you saw him reminisce about it.

“That’s nice, I love catching up with friends too. I was actually with Akaashi a while ago. You know him?” What a stupid question, you thought, as Keiji already said he knew Kenma.

“Hm? Yeah, I know him. We’ve talked, not recently though.” You both took off your coats and put them away, taking the conversation to the living room. You needed to be wrapped up into a blanket stat. 

Before you could even sit down, a loud blaring noise was heard from the apartment complex. You immediately covered your ears and looked out the window to see what was causing this ruckus. 

There were fire trucks outside of your building and plenty of gas company trucks too. You looked over to see Kenma’s irritated expression and wincing of the loud noise.

When you both went outside, you were told to evacuate the building because there was a gas leak they needed to fix and no one was allowed to use any utilities. 

“Are you serious? How long do we have to be gone?” You yelled to the fireman over the noise.

“At most 24 hours, ma’am.” He stated, then moved along to tell your neighbors. 

You sighed in frustration, where the hell were you going to go? You did not feel like driving back home to spend a singular night there. 

“We should stay in a hotel for tonight.” Kenma yelled for you, practically reading your mind. You nodded and got ready to pack a bag that you would use for tonight.

It honestly seemed like the most logical answer anyways too, but you were pretty sure everyone in your apartment complex probably had the same idea too.

By the time you and Kenma arrived at the nearest hotel, there were already plenty of people inside trying to get a room. You winced at that and made your way to the front desk too.

“Hi, is there any chance we could get two rooms please?” You asked the receptionist who looked as overwhelmed as you felt.

“No ma’am, I’m sorry. However, we do have a singular room, would that be fine? Since we have a large number of guests, it’s the only thing we can offer.” You purse your lips and look back over your shoulder to Kenma.

He seemed to be watching everyone else, but you knew he was listening.

“One room is fine.” You sighed, not realizing your mistake in what you asked and paid for the room. The receptionist smiled, “Great, here is your room key. I hope you have a delightful stay.”

You got a quick smile out and then headed for the elevator, knowing Kenma was trailing behind you. It was starting to get extremely crowded and compact down there.

“Thanks for suggesting this. I didn’t know where to go.” You dryly chuckled at that, watching the number alight when you got to that floor.

“No problem.” Was all Kenma said, understandably so. You both had been kicked out of the apartment and since fall break started, Kuroo was already gone in an Airbnb with his friends for break. 

Once you got to the hotel room, you used the key and opened the hefty door. As you went in to set your bag down on your bed, you realized that there was not another one. 

“Uhh, Kenma? Did what I pay for only come with one bed?” You asked confused, not knowing if you needed to be more specific with the receptionist. 

“Damn.” Kenma groaned, knowing that there probably was not another room with two beds available by now. This was going to be a long night for him.

Especially since him nor you weren’t able to talk about the weird tension you both had been feeling. Kenma had discussed it with Shoyo hence the reason he was out at the—coincidentally—same time that you were out confiding in Akaashi before he left town for fall break. 

This was going to be such a long night.

synopsis: it's the summer before you go to university, and you decide to become roommates with your pen pal that you've known since you were in primary. big problem arises, he's got a roommate, and it just so happens that his roommate either has a sexual want for you or hates your guts – or probably both?

a/n: i hope you like <333 as always requests are open

tag list: @geektastic84 @lavanderdreamve @hhoneyhan @kirikeijii @marsoverthestars @nymphsdomain @justagirlnamedkai @kodzukein @74zix47 @kakuzone @jaeminaur @3lectraheart @ookamiakasuna @22marie16 @jlly1

@deftrow allowed me permission to make this/it's their idea from A03!! all i did was create a multi-chapter fic of it :) i made the banner!!

[sleepywisteriah]

Hello hello! Welcome to my blog!

Here you’ll find a bunch of random FFXIV screenshots I personally love, and anything else that’s also FFXIV related (SFW only).

This is also a personal blog so expect the odd off topic post here and there (this one included). 😅

I play as a Miqo’te called Urrorah Star (Pronounced as aurora) over on the Aether Data Centre despite being British, I enjoy it more because it’s more active than the European servers. I do have other characters dotted around but I rarely ever use them.

I mainly play on PS4 so I can be a little slow with things, typing especially, so I do apologise for any delays.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About Urrorah

Urrorah has no memory of her past, all she remembers is waking up in hospital chambers early hours one morning, she noticed two figures in her chamber; a male and female miqo’te, both of which had claimed to her that they were her biological parents.

Once Urrorah had been sent home, this so callled ‘family’ of hers never treated her as such, she’s lost count of how many times they mistreated her. One night she decided enough was enough, packed her things and left, abandoning her village in hopes for a new start.

Upon arriving in Gridania she was welcomed by so many new people, she’d never experienced such kindness either. The scions had given her a place to call home. She had finally found her real family.

Urrorah was also lucky enough to find someone in particular who she holds very dear to her, but I t’s no secret that she’s completely smitten for one miqo’te in particular, Y’shtola. Ever since meeting each other, to the things Y’shtola’s done to protect their fellow scions, Urrorah will be in her debt for the rest of her life.

During the final events of ShadowBringers, Urrorah was injured during the fight with Emet Selch, resulting in her being left half blind due to all the light leaving her body, she had passed out not long after the whole ordeal.

Once she had awoken in her chamber, she was unable to see anything out of her right eye, not even the smallest traces of aether, even after countless healing magiks, for a fair while all she could feel was an excruciating burning sensation all around her right eye, it doesn’t bother her much nowadays but it’s still healing. Urrorah has since had trouble relaxing when strolling through the markets due to her half blindness.

Likes:

Being around Y’shtola and G’raha

Joking around with the twins

Sharing her adventurous tale with the youth

Being around all the scions

Meeting new faces

Hot chocolate

Cookies

Salmon (she’s likely to get super clingy if this is given to her often)

Head pats

Ear scritches

Dislikes:

Any surprise interaction to do with her right side (unless you want her to toss you over her shoulder, it’s only acceptable if she’s aware of your presence)

spicy food (especially after that one curry at Radz-at-Han)

Abandonment

Dishonesty

People grabbing her tail without permission

People yanking on her tail

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So yeah, that about sums that up! I ain’t no writing expert but you get the general idea. 😂 I am also open to any constructive criticism just please BE GENTLE!

I’m also on the lookout for moots to play/discuss FFXIV with! 😊

My socials! All completely optional!

TikTok: SleepyBisquit

Instagram: SleepyBisquit

Twitch: Sleepy_Bisquit

Discord: sleepybisquit

Bluesky: SleepyBisquit

*Edits: Overhauled everything to make it less lengthy, also added her likes/dislikes.

[thngsoftheconsciousmnd]

Today is Sunny but Chilly

Today's weather feels like it relates to me. It's finally been cooling off here in Japan and it's really insane that the weather changed so fast. It was boiling just a few days ago but I can easily wear a sweatshirt all day at school nowadays. I woke up from a very deep sleep today and wasn't that tired? Like I wanted to continue my sleep but I didn't wake up and just feel exhausted. I talked to my SO yesterday about my insecurities and the way he words things. We had the same conversation a few times prior and honestly it was really hard to just come out and admit my insecurities. I felt like I would be compared to the people around him. He finally cleared up this double misunderstanding we had. I had explained how I felt like he compared me to his models and that I'm less beautiful, and he never corrected me. So I know that was double swirling around in my head. However, hearing him reexplain it when I was in a more stable/sound mind allowed me to hear what he was actually saying. And honestly? I think it was a compliment. Where outer beauty isn't that important to him anymore but how a person really acts. I also told him that I felt like he put me on a tightrope and that if I fuck up he would just throw me away. He reassured me that wasn't the case. And said if I fuck up 100% he wants to help me only fuck up 80% next time. At the time it wasn't the answer I was expecting but I'm tearing up at this while writing it. I feel like I haven't had as many negative thoughts today (its early but lets keep the roll!).

I realized that in my past relationships I was with people that were willing to throw out their sense of self to fit a mold that I was forcing on them. I remember getting upset with my last SO and him just taking it. I remember telling him I hated it when he complained. If you complain, use that energy to go and fix what's bothering you. I think I took a lot of inner problems out on him, and got used to that toxic way of treating him. I realized recently (after taking my attachment style quiz) that things from the past just live rotting and festering under the surface. Things that I just buried and was like "yeah that didn't happen" did indeed happen and I can't just wish them away. I need to work on slowly digging some of those things up and giving forgiveness. Forgive myself and the other person.

I was rereading the "How to Stop Being a Narcissist" article again and saw this. "If you continue with unhealthy habits, like bashing or shaming yourself for being vulnerable, your behavior will never change. Everyone is imperfect and deserving of unconditional love. Practicing self-love can help you heal internal emotional wounds and develop compassion toward the world around you." I want to learn how to forgive myself and allow myself to make these mistakes. I'm imperfect and so is everyone else. It would be unfair for them to judge me as perfect. I struggle, maybe more than others do, but that doesn't make me wrong. I still deserve unconditional love. I remember thinking about how I beat myself up when I think of old memories that happened and the thought "but have I done that again ever since?" no? That shows growth.

Today is about realizing the coldness of the day but also realizing that I deserve a sweater to warm me up.

[aggold15hi01]

Life update-24th February 2023 (Updated and edited on 27th February 2023) [Part 1]

Author's note: This life update is entirely based on the writer's own personal point of views in life plus the views in this post here are entirely reflected based on the writer's own personal experience in real life.

Trigger warning: Mentions of abuse and depression

My personal blog: https://realpaulaleah4everwrites05.blogspot.com/

My Twitter: https://twitter.com/Goallisha

Hello again,

I am so sorry for the long overdue wait as you can tell/ know that I hadn't gotten the proper time to truly do this life update as you know/ can tell I have been feeling very exhausted and yet I hadn't been feeling very productive nor I have been feeling motivated to do something ever since the move to the new house at the Cyber Success back in late November 2022 and already; I am not feeling way too good ever since the move unfortunately.

Plus I am so sorry that if I am currently unable to presently do any new writing projects at this time of the moment as you know the level of my creativity has been feeling at an all time low and honestly: I am still feeling very unhappy with my very own life to be honest.

Also; I never thought I truthfully say this but . . . to me; this year alone is going to very deep and depressive year for me ever since I hadn't been feeling way too good lately as I am struggling with the lack of motivation which I only notice it now followed by how am I feeling intensely burned out from life in general especially nowadays it does feels like a chore you are having the urge of obligation to simply just do it and less of an every day task you would do it and I am not feeling truthfully happy about it to be honest.

For those of you who had been checking my Tumblr blog; I had made a post that I promise to made a life update post however ever since I hadn't been feeling like mentally well  in my own life lately additionally I hadn't been feeling very productive lately nor I am feeling the motivation to do something ever since I have been feeling mentally fatigued (I would like an intense level I am now experiencing it mentally.) from the move yet having the lack of motivation plus the homesickness feeling has been making me feeling much more worse than how I usually am additionally I am not feeling very good lately as you may  acknowledge the fact on how I hadn't been feeling very productive nor I did had the motivation to do something despite how both of my parents in real life does very much love the brand new; spacious and an expensive house except dejectedly I did felt as if I am feeling as if I am living in a hotel without the services of what usually hotels does (Talking here about the usual services which you can normally find it in many different hotels obviously--room services; house keeping: the reception check-in; check out: etc.) plus you know; I am not truthfully feeling very happy about how do I have to move out very quickly to the brand new house plus having to force myself to live in a bedroom where does feels more like an actual hotel room than an actual place where you can call it “home” especially when you are forced to truly adapt to a brand new environment where you are not familiar with at all yet having to get used to a brand new schedule by forcing yourself to relive the trauma by having to go through the part by having to wake up so early in the early hours of the morning as this is one of the reason why I had decided not to truthfully make a proper decision to go to either a college or a university to truly re-live the traumatic part where I did had gone through before back when I used to go to a private school back in Kuala Lumpur.

[ninjaghostdev]

When is Normal Again.

Came across this post from one Alex Navarro

I'd been thinking to myself a lot about this.

March 17th 2020. That's when the schools shut down after spring break. My oldest started spring break excited to go back to class. Then she couldn't.

March 20th 2020. We were in full lock down mode, have to work from home.

Jan 17th, 2023: we're still working from home

--

I can't even properly describe to my young kids how weirdly.. unassuming life was only 3 years ago today.

I look back on videos and photos, and I see essentially a completely different world than what's out there today.

Things that have come back to normal… are different now.

(For context, my oldest was in Grade 1 on Spring Break when her world got flipped upside down. My youngest was only 2 years old. Her entire conscious life has been under this pandemic, and her whole world is dominated by the environment and society it's created in the aftermath.)

My oldest got to enjoy making some early memories out and about with people she loved, doing adventures on the sky train, going to malls, indoor playgrounds, fairs, and school events. Some loved ones, by the way, who are no longer with us by the time my province started relaxing measures, and who never got to see the other side of covid measures.

We try to do a bunch of the things we used to do, but the vibe is completely different now. Pre-sign up to an indoor playground because now they limit slots to like 20? Pre-Schedule going to the swimming pool? The malls are.. effectively gutted and sad now, not much in them survived.

What's worse, my oldest used to enjoy going to extracurricular classes like cooking, art, dance, etc Nowadays she's lucky to get into swimming lessons. Everything else gets canceled on her due to "lack of interest" because no one is sending their kids to these things anymore.

My youngest by the grace of whatever deity has been able to enjoy some ballet classes.

My oldest however misses all these activities she used to be able to do. Her excitement to show us the new thing she baked. Her genuine enthusiasm over bringing home a new painting or paper craft. It's been almost 3 years since she's last been able to enjoy these.

My own world with my own interests has changed rapidly too. I dont want or need a lot. A computer, primarily. Some basic stuff like DnD rule books and such. I even got into firearms ownership as a Canadian, but even there I didn't seek much, just some basics.

But of course, thanks to the supply chain and production issues, it's made everything i'm apart of a scalpers paradise. I've been finding a lot less joy in these things. Mostly because I just want to forget anything better than what I have might be out there, because it's become to damn unattainable at this point, it might as well be.

And then the inflation hit. Now my family and I no longer live comfortably. In just a couple short years, i've gone from a life of, honestly comfortable plenty, to a life where im back living paycheck to paycheck. I didn't leave my employer, in fact i've been there 9 years this March. Im not making less, in fact i've never made more in my life. The rapid inflation, new installation of poorly timed taxes, and strained production rising prices across the board for just about everything..

I don't know, man.

It's been downright depressing watching my world, my country, and my province deteriorate into shittiness around me, and stay that way or get worse. Yeah I know there's people out there who have it far worse than me, but im allowed to feel this way too.

I wonder.

I really do wonder.

If I'll ever see a day again where I can wake up, take a nice breath, and go "Yeah, ok, this is close enough to the way things felt in October of 2019."

[deskmisfit]

Trying to get another one off the list, before I forget XD Thanks for tagging me, even though I am still baffled that you (tagged by @doorfighter) really want to learn MORE about me.

Nickname: Raine – Ray for short. This one’s got quite a long history despite sounding quite...mundane. Actually when community boards were all the rage, I used to participate in a lot of roleplaying boards, making up all kinds of characters. One of those roleplays was about something musical as far as I remember, so I named one of my characters Raven Chord. Yeah, real creative, I know. I was about 13 years old, I think and I liked ravens. Afterwards I continued using that name, shortening it to Ray. But after some time, I tried out some deviations and settled on Raine, because I like rain and the shorthand Ray also was one related to Raven. Plus, someone told me that the image of a raven kinda suited me as they are empathetic animals *shrugs*

Sign: Gemini

Height: 158 cm (5'2.2'')

Last thing I googled: "what’s 158cm in inches“ – Sorry for not having anything „juicier“ to share here. And I really don’t get why the US is always this extra special when it comes to units – or anything in general.

Number of followers: 34

Song stuck in my head: Digimon Data Squad – Wolkenreiter; I really love the German Digimon songs and can only advise anyone to listen to them. So sad that it’s a thing of the past that we got our very own versions of Anime Intros that sometimes were waaaaay cooler than the originals even! At least that’s what I think. I really miss racing home from school just to turn on the TV and watch the newest episodes of my favorite Animes.

Amount of sleep: Too little – mostly. Hopefully 6-7 hours, though I usually sleep about 5 hours or less; my insomnia is keeping me awake, keeps me from sleeping through the night and then wakes me up way too early. It’s such a joy (not).

Dream Job: I don’t really know. Probably the best thing for me would be to be able to earn a living by writing as I doubt I can ever live with my racing mind without trying to empty it out every now and then. I always start jotting something down just to discard it though. At least it helps in keeping my never ending thoughts from spilling out completely. Also might keep me occupied enough with things that vary enough in nature to stop my brain from going into a catatonic state from boredom.

Currently Wearing: jeans, t-shirt (print saying: You have a beautiful soul, give it to me!), thin pullover underneath and a grey hoodie with small white owls printed all over it (they’re real cute!)

Movies/Books that summarize you: Hm...hard to say. If I had to pick a book that’d at least describe some of my more serious thought processes, I might choose „Erich Fromm – Den Menschen verstehen; Psychoanalyse und Ethik“ This book made me feel understood, even if this might sound strange to some people. The next one that I’d pick, even though it isn’t a book, might be the „Given“ manga series. I relate to all the main characters – each one reminding me of parts of me; some more faded, others still quite present today. And then a movie...“Bullet Train“. It’s so random – just.like.me. Like...really. Probably a whole lot more stuff out there, but that’s what I am going with for this questionnaire.

Favorite Instrument: piano (never had the opportunity to learn though - unfortunately; only learned to play two songs in school lessons)

Favorite Song: Hard to pick one. I am listening to way too much. Let’s just name three here: „Linkin Park – Numb“, „Evanescence – Bring Me To Life“ and „Skillet – Monster“. You’d probably surprised about what I am listening to most nowadays when you compare them to this line-up.

Aesthetic: Creepy-cute, I guess? I love all cute and fluffy things. At the same time though I really adore some bloody (sometimes even a bit gory) stuff and things connected to death and darkness – does that make sense? When I came upon a holographic sparkly sticker that had „I like collecting dead stuff“ on top of a skull beneath a glass dome with some butterflies adorning it, I felt so understood!

Favorite Authors: Hard to say. I don’t really tend to have favorites. I just become obsessed with one thing for a certain period of time until the next thing takes over. But well...I certainly like Erich Fromm, I guess. Then I do enjoy Matt Haig’s more messy writing style, but adore Edgar Allan Poe’s interesting stories and his choice of words – just to name a few. But to pitch an author: Go and read Lynn Flewelling’s Nightrunner series!

Random Fun Fact: I am often asked about what happend to my pinkies as they are curved towards my ring fingers (medical term: clinodactyly). Most assume they had been broken at some point making them look like this, but nope. Both pinkies look the same and it’s just a little cosmetic anomaly. Only makes my typing experience a bit different from others (at least that’s one of the few things, I’ve realized).

Tagging: Whoever wants to fill this out! I like learning about other people, but I am lazy, so....

15 Questions, 15 People

Tagged by: @aralezinspace and @happilyhertale

answers below the cut

Nickname: don't really have one. @mrsragnarlodbrok calls me wifey and Thanos tho😘

Sign: Virgo

Height: almost 5'2" (157.5 cm)

Last Thing I Googled: how many cm is 5'2" lmao, but my last legit search was in Google Scholar for "crystal nucleation density in mafic magmas"

Song Stuck in My Head: Ridin' Dirty by Chamillionaire because my research group is going to make ribbons for our name badges at LPSC with a Mars rover that says they see me rovin' 

Number of Followers: almost 6k now

Amount of Sleep: a good weeknight is like maybe 5 hours?

Dream Job: tenured professor of geology at a teaching focused uni

Wearing: leggings, baggy long sleeve t-shirt, blanket

Movies/Books That Summarize You: idk? dante's peak bc it's a geology movie with a moderately accurate volcanic eruption? but my favorite movies are LotR EE, Master and Commander, and King Arthur: Legend of the Sword. and my favorite book is LotR, Silmarillion, ASOIAF, The Faithful and the Fallen.

Favorite Song: at the moment? Sleep by Goodnight, Texas

Favorite Instrument: hurdy-gurdy or talharpa

Aesthetic: dark academia, i guess? farmhouse chic? i don't know enough about aesthetics to say, my aesthetic is t-shirts and plaid shirts and field pants with lots of pockets filled with rocks and muddy hiking boots.

Favorite Authors: JRRT, GRRM, Patrick Rothfuss, John Gwynne. favorite scientific authors tho? Hap McSween and Justin Filiberto, catch me reading their papers a lot

Random Fun Fact: Mars has volcanoes that were active and producing the same type of magma (compositionally) for over 100 million years in a single location which is about 10x longer than any known volcanic complex here on Earth. So like, how? How did this funky lil red planet do that with no plate tectonics and being like a quarter of the size it should be.

tag list: @mrsragnarlodbrok @erzsebetrosztoczy @overratedsun @thatharpist @serasvictoria @bitchofdarkness @ewanmitchellcrumbs and whoever else wants to partake because i'm too lazy to tag 15 people.

[lavunyan]

Cheek Kiss

Pairing: Bang Chan x Fem!reader (Haru) Word Count: 1,124 words Warning: Nothing other than super-duper fluff Summary: You got a fever, what would he do?

A/N: Soooo SKZoo Pop Up Store is almost here. Who else gonna buy Wolfchan? Because I do~ I will bring him when I watch SKZ concert later so he could see his father on the stage hahahahaha Anyway, enjoy this drabble, my beautiful STAY~

Chan frowned upon knowing that Haru hadn't replied to any messages he sent to her the entire day. She usually texted him about how busy she was and would be in touch after handling everything. That also applied to him. He would inform her if he had a fully packed schedule or just spending time at the studio. 

But it's been more than 24 hours since the last time Haru replied to his text, and it makes him anxious. 

"She is not there?" 

"Nope, she is not here, Chris. The last time she came was a week ago. I think she was busy with her work." 

Her mother's statement alerted him, and he quickly adjusted everything into his bag. 

"Alright then, Mum. I'll go check up on her now." 

"Thank you, Chris. Next time come to our house. Your Pa is surely missing his lovely son." 

"Of course. I miss you too, Mum. I'll get going now. Say hello to Pap for me, will ya?" 

"I will, now go and please rest. I heard you rarely took a rest. What is wrong with younglings nowadays?" Chan giggled at Haru's mom's nag. 

Not until his worries took his mind away. Haru didn't inform her condition over the text that it would happen once in a blue moon. He has known her since he was a trainee. No, they have known each other since he was in Australia. Their parents have been best friends since he was young. Given the fact that they are both Korean. 

They lost contact after he became a trainee and moved to Korea. Then she moved to Korea when she was in middle school. Of course, her parents naturally took care of him and 'adopted' him as Haru is the only child. Needless to say, they became closer, and she is constantly bugging him. Remind him to take a rest or send him memes in the middle of the night just because she couldn't sleep, and knowing him having trouble sleeping, she took that chance to bug him. 

So this type of behavior makes his heart jump. 

He no longer sneaks up to Haru's apartment because his lover has been very familiar to his fans since his trainee days. It's become an open secret to people that Haru is part of his family, so no one really questions Haru as someone more than a family. 

Her voice appeared several times in Changbin's vlog when they were on vacation with the rapper's family. People could tell that there were two women voices when Changbin talked to his sister. Moreover, Haru often brings food to the dorm makes her less suspicious. 

Clearly, Chan doesn't worry if his relationship is exposed with Haru someday. She took care of the kids, never caused trouble at school, had fantastic achievements, and on top of that, she is a lawyer. What could go wrong with that?

He is lucky to have her, to be honest. Why would someone as amazing as Haru wants to be with him?

If she knew his thoughts now, he would get smacked real good. 

He opened her door; it was dark and cold, like no one had set foot in this apartment for a while. He raised his eyebrows, surprised if his lover was not home. He found out that all her shoes were tucked neatly on the shelf as he looked around. It means that she is home. 

Did she already fast asleep? This early?

Tiptoeing his way to her bedroom, true to his words, he found her safe and sound. He let his breath go knowing her was resting and not having a significant accident. 

He threw his bag by the bed and sat beside her, leaning his body so he could see her better in the dark. As he caressed the side of her face, that burning feeling caught him off guard. She had a fever. 

Chan took everything he needed; a warm towel, a glass of water, meds. Everything. He strides into her room to get everything ready before waking his girl. 

Once again, leaning towards her, he wiped her sweaty skin. He used to wipe her skin but seeing her not giving him any response -not even a beautiful smile- didn't sit well with him. He is ashamed of himself, not realizing that his lover has been sick the whole day. 

Feeling something rub her body, she slowly opened her eyes and found Chan focused on his task.

"... Chris?" 

"It will make you better, Love. Let me change your pajama; it's so sticky. Must be uncomfy." 

Haru stayed silent, permitting him to get rid of her clothes, followed by a groan; her head was pounding so bad, and every part of her body was aching. 

"Sshhh... Little more. Almost done, Baby." 

Chan changed her pajama and continued wiping her body. It gave her some relief. But before he could take off her pants, she stopped him. 

"I am on my period. Just let it be." 

He shook his head and declined her request. Now he understands why she got a fever. He knew her body temperature would quickly spike up whenever she got her period. The usual cold-temp body would be a little warm, and she always complained about how uncomfortable her body was.

"Ah... your period?" 

She nodded and closed her eyes. Chan moved her body so he could reach her back. He slowly changed her clothes and moved her to a more comfortable position. 

"First day?" 

"Yea, and it sucks." 

He chuckled. He was no longer worried about his lover because she could answer his questions with sass. Chan put her pajamas aside and kissed her cheek while caressing her hair.

"You will get my fever if you kiss me like that, Babe." 

"Aw... This fever is from your period, babe. It won't get to me so that I will kiss you as much as possible." He then proceeds to kiss her longer than before. 

"Do as you like then," she rolled her eyes. 

"Want a tub of ice cream?" 

It piqued her interest, but then she frowned upon the idea. 

"I have a fever, tho?" 

He laughed hard and pinched her cheek, overwhelming her with that gesture of his. She only had a fever, not dying. So what is fever without being stubborn about eating some pistachio ice cream? 

He came with a tub of ice cream in his hand and handed it to her while he took off his t-shirt. His favorite thing was planting his body skin to skin with hers. So while they had a movie night, he will put her close to him as much as possible. 

Now then, 

Netflix? Check.

Ice cream? Check.

Cuddle? Check.

Cheek kiss? Absolutely. 

Masterlist

[storytimewithanonwriter]

Songbird

…

Part 8

Single Mom!reader x Tasm!Peter

Taglist

@venomsvl @diasnohibng @lu123sworld

@paw-sneeze, @harryownsmysoultpwk @fairyy27 @gwenstacy-ghostspider

….

Warning for series: fluff, a cute baby, mention of food, mention of sex, implied sex, blood, and injuries, curse words, the use of y/n…, nicknames for the reader: love, bird, songbird, birdie ( probably more), not the best writing and lots of typos !! Lol

…

Hi all!! I hope you are having a wonderful week! Here is the next installment of Songbird! I have been working on a requested one-shot… I’m super excited about so be on the lookout for it! This part …🥰🥰🥰! I hope you enjoy! My requests are open! Love ya!!-K

...

“ Sooo… how it going with Peter ?” Eliza had been busy with a court case the past week. She stopped by to say hey to Maisie during pizza night, and you hadn’t seen her since.

“ it’s been great. Val took Maze on Saturday so we could have a date night. The girls loved having a baby spa day. I loved having my apartment alone with my boyfriend.”

“ I bet you did!” She laughed into the phone.

“ Shut it! When are you done? Maze keeps asking for you.”

“ Tell MJ Auntie Liza I am almost done with this case! I will be done tomorrow just have some closing stuff. Shopping and lunch! And you can have a day with Peter! It will be great. “

“ MJ?”

“Yep! I think it’s cute! Maisie Jane shorten to MJ.”

“It is cute! I really need the day to get stuff for someone’s birthday. She wants a Piderella birthday!?! How the hell am I gonna pull that one off?”

“ Ah! You have the theatre hive mind . They can figure it out.”

“ True! Hey, Peter just walked in. We are gonna go to dinner early. He has to go over help May with a few things tonight.”

“Bye love you”

“ Bye!”

“ Hi honey!” You smiled “ let me get Maisie and we can head out. Are you ok?”

Peter smiled. He was exhausted. He had been out late the night before patrolling and then had work.

“ I’m tired that’s all.”

“ We don’t have to go out. We can order in or I can cook. Ooo! I can make that pasta dish I have wanted to try!”

“If that’s what you want to do , I’m ok with that.” He smiled.

“ Alright, a night in it is! You sit! Take a nap! Maisie and I will cook .” You smiled.

“ I’m fine honestly.” Peter smiled

“ I will come get you when dinner is ready.”

Peter ended up falling asleep on your couch.

“ My Pete sleep . He very sleepy.” Maisie said as you walked past him. You had already gave Maisie her dinner and her bath. It was time to put her to bed.

As she walked past Peter, she patted his head.

“ good night my Pete.”

Once Maze fell asleep, you returned to the living room to find Peter waking up.

“ Good Morning , Sleeping beauty” you smiled .

“ How long was I out? “ Peter yawned.

“ Well, Maisie and I cooked. She ate and had her bath. Now, she is zonked out. So…. About an hour and a half.” You smiled

“ Birdie, I’m so sorry . We were..”

“Pete, stop it. It’s ok. You needed rest. You ready to eat?”

“Yeah, I’m starving !”

You two are diner. Peter helped you clean up the kitchen before giving you a quick kiss goodbye.

He had to do Spider-Man things tonight. Since he came home from Peter 1’s universe, Peter made more time for Peter Parker things. Often nowadays, Peter has to make himself do Spider-Man things. He would much rather spend his time with you.

Tonight was one of those nights. He had heard buzz about something happening at the docks, so he had to check it out. After he left your place, he headed there. He wanted to try to make it home to you. He stayed by the docks for hours to no avail. He finally decided to head home when he heard the sirens.

….

Peter tried keeping spider-man out of his personal life. After Gwen, he didn't want to risk anything happening to anyone he cared about. You and Maisie were at the top of the list. The less you know about Peter’s connection to Spider-Man, the better. Peter was going to keep Spider-Man far away from you and Maisie. The closest he came to revealing his second identity was the night he crashed into something while returning from Peter One's universe, and you came up to investigate. He keeps in mind what Peter two told him. And he decided to keep his secret as long as he could from you and Maisie.

But tonight, he needed help. He headed toward the sirens to find a robbery in progress. Peter went to stop the getaway car only to be hit and drug for four blocks. He was in so much pain. He knew he would need someones to help, but he didn’t have anywhere to go to get it. So, he came to the place he felt the safest with you. May was at work so he couldn’t see her for help. So, dressed in his suit, he knocked on your bedroom window. Your light came on, and you peeked out of the baby blue curtains in your bedroom.

Opening the window “ Spider-Man, holy shit! What are you doing here? Oh my god, your hurt. “

He spoke, trying to change his voice so you couldn’t recognize him .“ Hi, I was in the neighborhood and got banged up pretty bad. I know your boyfriend, Peter. He takes photos of me sometimes. I went to see if he could help, but he was not home. I remember him saying that his girlfriend lived downstairs from him. And she was very kind….”

“ come in, come in. Yeah... Uh, I can help you... yeah, no problem at all. We just have to be quiet. My daughter is sleeping in the next room. “

“oh, yeah ok “

You helped Spider-Man into your bedroom through the window.

“ you can sit here” pointing to your bed. Looking over the injured hero, you ask,

“can you take the top half of your suit? “. You looked over what was left of his suit, your shutter. Poor Pider has a rough night. “I can see why you needed someone’s help. Too many boo-boos to fix by yourself, huh?”

“ boo-boos? “ he laughed. “Yeah, give me a second “ Peter peeled off the top part of the tattered suit. You watch and shutter as he winced in pain.

“ so, can I ask you what happened?” You asked as you gathered supplies and began to work on Spider-Man’s injuries.

“ bank robbery, the getaway car hit me. Then proceeded to drag me a few blocks. “

“ Oh, shit. That doesn't sound very good. Does this happen a lot?

“ injuries are a part of the job.” Peter laughed, then sighed.“ It’s a lot sometimes .”

“ I can only imagine! What is it like being a superhero? Do you enjoy it? Sorry! I’m asking a lot of questions. It’s just not every day you meet Spider-Man. “

“ I don’t mind . I guess being a “superhero” is ok… it’s hard to have a normal life , because of the mask….I have been trying to make time for typical me. “

“ normal you, it’s crazy to think you literally could be anybody! I mean I could know you. It’s just wild to think about it… it’s good that you take time for “ normal you” . You may be a superhero, but you need to take care of yourself out of the mask as well.”

you smiled at Peter . Your smile always warmed him up.

He was lost in your eyes for a moment before saying “ alright, love. You keep asking me questions; only think it fair I get to ask you something now.”

“ Sure, Pider .”

Peter smiled at the name Maisie called him all the time. Peter knew what it meant, but Spider-Man didn’t.

“ Pider?”

“ oh, Maisie, my daughter, calls you “ Pider” she is almost two and can’t quite get Spider-Man out. She used to call you “er,” and then came “ pider.” It made Peter so jealous! She would say “Pider” and would only call him “ p” for the longest time .” You laughed, thinking of Peter’s reaction. “She broke her arm two weeks ago, and Peter got her a plush Spider-Man. She takes it everywhere. “Pider sleep. Pider eats “ it’s very adorable. I had to make him a matching costume for her spring show. And I’m pretty sure he will be Toto’s you in the Wizard of Oz at my school. My students made Maisie Toto… I’m sorry I’m rambling.”

You were right. It was utterly adorable.“ No! No! That’s very sweet. So, I know your daughter’s name now, but what is yours? “

“ Oh! Yeah, I’m y/n! Sorry! Wow, I guess I’m just starstruck! it’s nice to meet you Spider-Man.”

“ that’s a beautiful name.” Peter smiled under his mask.

You smiled

Hissing in pain as you disinfected a cut on Peter’s back, he pulled away slightly.

“ oh, I’m so sorry! This next one will hurt pretty badly as well, but good news, I’m almost done with this part. I still have to get gravel out of a few wounds …. But you don’t need stitches! Which is good for you because I'm terrible at them, you should ask Peter! I have Princess bandaids or bandaids with well you on them for the small boo-boos. And every time someone gets a boo-boo on this apartment, they get a feel better prize. So, I have stickers, gummy bears, and coffee. I also have stronger things like shots, wine, or beer if that’s what you need. Your choice!”

Peter laughed at you. He loved how generous and kind you were to a (kind of) total stranger. You were indeed yourself with everyone you met.

“ I’m going to go with gummy bears and princess bandaids. “

“Nice choices, Mr. Spider-Man. I would have chosen the same. “

“ you wouldn't choose band-aids for me,” you both laughed “ I’m going to have to tell Peter to thank you. He was right about you.”

“ No, thank you. You do so much for this city. I don’t think you get enough credit. What was Peter say about me?”

“He said you were kind, caring, smart, funny, and beautiful. He said that he thinks he is falling hard for you. I … uhh .. saw him the day after your first date. He said, “ I'm going to marry her one day .”

“ he said all that?”

“He did.”

“ I'm going to marry her someday,” you said to yourself quietly and smiled.

You both sat in silence as you finished pulling gravel out of his wounds and cleaning them.

“Well, Pider, you are all fixed. “You smiled.

The sounds of Maisie crying filled the air.

“ Ahh, Princess MJ has awoken Sir Spider. I must be off. “

Peter froze . MJ. He never heard you call Maisie “MJ”.

“ MJ?”

“ Yeah, Maisie Jane. My sister started calling her MJ recently, and I kinda picked up on it.“ you laughed.

MJ. Every Peter Parker had a May, Ben, Ned, and y/n. Peter had found everyone except “his” MJ. He honestly thought he didn’t have an MJ like the others. The Peters’ lives were similar, but not the same, just like Peter 2 said. Peter One’s y/n is one of his best friends. Peter Two’s y/n is the babysitter. And you are well... His songbird, his best friend, turned into his girlfriend and, hopefully someday, his wife. Peter One’s Ned is his best friend. Peter Two’s Ned is his doorman, and your Peter’s Ned is the new guy at the lab. Both of the other Peter’s MJ are their loves. He decided the day he returned that you, his songbird, were the one he had been looking for. So, he didn't seek out “his” MJ. But he never had to look for her; he had his MJ all along. Maisie was Peter’s MJ. Someone he loves and cares about. Maisie, who he has watched, grow up over the past year. Maisie, who, every morning, Peter hears the pitter-patter of her feet as she runs across the floor. Maisie, who calls him “ my Peter.” Peter’s mind was racing. It all made sense. Maise is his MJ.

“ Umm...Pider? Are you there? “ Peter was lost in his thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“ Well, ok... Umm. Anyway, you can stay here in my room. Get comfortable and rest. Maisie will be up for a while, or if she falls back asleep, it will be on me in the bed. You don’t have to stay, but you do seem exhausted. “

“ mama! “Maise cried

Peter was still processing everything. He also was so tired that he could think clearly, to begin with. He honestly hated the thought of having to move anymore this evening. “I honestly don't think I can move yet, so I'm just staying here for a bit. Thank you for everything, y/n. “

“ Anytime, Pider.if you need anything just let me know.” And you were off, leaving Peter to his thoughts.

[angry-geese]

For Myself

Sukuna x Reader

Warnings: nsfw mention. mention of violence, blood, injury, and cannibalism. implied murder. starts off kind of dark but gets fluffier towards the end. gn!reader.

obligatory warning for my poor editing skills. if theres any egregious errors i'll get to them when i get home from work

Summary: some fluff where Sukuna comforts the reader while they're sick

Word Count: 2.4k

He's certain you would be more comfortable in his lap than on the floor. Even as he beckons you to sit, you refuse, turning your gaze away. You adjust your position to a more comfortable spot on your knees. The floor is hard and cold, but you don't have much longer to wait anyway. Sukuna has grown bored of the man standing in front of him. A peace offering, in exchange for not razing their village. A young woman, brought here against her own will. Her life to replace yours. It's nothing Sukuna wants, nor can he make use of her. She’s no sorcerer, likely no good in a fight, and too frail to be worth eating.

Worst of all, it insults you.

An insult to you, is an insult to Sukuna himself.

The man was only delaying the inevitable. Humans have a habit of doing that. They’re resilient, like cockroaches. You can squash, poison, trap, or drop a nuke on as many as you want to, but they’ll always come back.

He planned on killing him from the moment he stepped foot in the door.

And when he kills him, he makes sure to have the woman watch. She lays curled at your feet as you regard them both with cold eyes. Not a scream passes her lips. She’s either frozen with fear, or knows that moving is the worst thing she can do.

She begs for her life.

Sukuna leaves it up to you to decide.

It was an insult to you, after all. In a past life you could see yourself letting her go. There's many things in life you used to do that are no longer habits of yours. You were in her shoes years ago. Time has hardened you, made you cruel. If a past version of you could look at you now, you don't know if you’d recognize yourself. Not all change is bad. People are meant to change, and they’re going to do so.

You give her a minute to start running. After that, it's up to Sukuna with what he wants to do with her.

She takes the opportunity, thinking she has a chance to survive, and flees. The guards and servants let her. Your word is second to Sukuna’s. The only person who could overturn an order put in place by you is Sukuna himself. He usually doesn't. The resulting chaos from anything you do is good entertainment. And he has all the time in the world. Being immortal leads to a lot of boredom.

Sukuna would hunt her down before she could escape the estate.

Nobody got away from him. Not even you. Nowadays you’re much less serious about leaving but you still threaten it if he dares piss you off.

He'd never let you go. You know that. Try as you will, you're never getting free.

Not that you have anything to go back to. And you're rather comfortable here. Comfortable may be a bit of a stretch, but you're housed, fed, and protected. The basic human needs are taken care of. Sukuna cares about you in his own, twisted way. You may have first been just a plaything to keep his stomach full and his balls empty—a toy to be discarded after a day or two—but you've earned a place by his side. He wakes up next to you, he goes to sleep next to you. He's grown used to having you around. And you to him.

You're just as much his, as he is yours.

Everything about the man is selfish, and all-consuming. But when he is with you, he finds himself giving for the first time in his life.

He gets a servant to draw him a bath. He has the decency to scrub the blood off before finding you, and asking you to join him. His bloodied kimono is replaced with a clean one. It's black, the sleeves are wide enough to accommodate his four arms. Blood doesn't bother you, but he doesn't want to track it all over his house.

Something is wrong.

He doesn't remember you getting hurt, but you’re acting like you’re injured. He thinks back to this morning, how he had to drag you out of bed. How sluggish you acted.

Worry creases itself between his eyebrows.

Your mortality was something he knew of, but never gave much thought. There was no need to. The mortality of others was something he didn't care about. You weren't supposed to be kept long. You were merely a sacrifice, meant to appease Sukuna, and in turn he wouldn't raze your village. While young, and pretty, not good enough to save your people. He planned on fucking you, burning your village to the ground, then eating you. Not necessarily in that order, but that was the plan.

He's taken everything from you. Your home, your life, your family. Even as you were forced to face your fate, you never gave in, never lost your bite. You defied him and lived. You had a malicious streak in you. You were never as sweet and as innocent as the people of your village first played you up to be. Years later you still put up the same fight. It's a constant back and forth between you two.

You’d never be able to hurt him. As much as you'd scratch and bite, you'd never so much as draw blood. Harming the King of Curses was not an easy task.

His 'love' was much more material at first. As you got settled down, survived more than a week, gifts appeared. Jeweled hair pins and beautiful, expensive kimonos appeared. All made just for you. He'd never admit to being behind it. You were not complacent, but you were comfortable. You were his spoiled pet. That didn't stop you from clawing at his eyes whenever he picked you up when you didn't want to be touched. Being spoiled didn't make you nice.

None of his pets have lasted quite as long as you have. At least eight times the trees of his estate have shriveled and turned brown in winter, and the ground has hardened with frost. At least eight times they've bloomed and have had the life of spring breathed back into them, and the ground has thawed and turned muddy. You just did what you had to in order to survive. You've more than just survived. Some would say you’ve thrived. You would beg to differ. If you were the begging type.

He still views you as a pet. You’re human after all. Though sometimes it feels like you’re becoming more curse than human. Being viewed as an equal to him is impossible, but he values you. You're not something that can easily be replaced.

His hand touches your shoulder from behind. You don't flinch. You used to flinch. Then you started swinging. You're never able to hurt him. You're strong, but not that strong.

"She was far too frail to eat," you say, "I assumed you didn't want to keep her for that."

You don't eat human meat. Or try not to. Early on in your stay, before you knew better… It wasn't pork. Uraume was a wonderful cook, but not for anything you ate. Personally it's not your thing. Non-human meat is hard to come by around here, so you’ve stopped eating the stuff altogether. If you wanted it, Sukuna would make a servant get it for you, but you are content without it.

"You made the right call." He says. You always do.

He slips beside you, watching as you remove the intricate pins from your hair. You always loved your hair. Even at your darkest moment you took great care of it. It was a source of pride for you.

A wave of nausea rolls over you. Sweat beads in your hairline, rolling down your back, under the thin fabric of your—his—robe. You have little need for clothes. It doesn't get that cold here. Sukuna tears them off you anyway. Covering yourself up isn't necessary, but you do it out of modesty, and a sense of normalcy. You protest as he pulls at the fastenings of your robe, the flimsy fabric pooling at your feet. You have no plans on getting wet, you’d much rather go to bed. You’re tired, and you don't want to be bothered.

The tub is large enough to fit several of you. You guess it's fitting. The man is huge. He settles into the water behind you, pulling you to his chest. Try as you will, you’re not going to be able to struggle out of his grip. You’re too tired to put up much of a fight, though you do complain.

One of his sets of arms wraps around you, effectively trapping you in place. The other pulls a washcloth from the side of the tub, into the water with you. As much as you hate to admit it, the warm water feels nice against your sore muscles.

Sukuna is not a sentimental man. But with the way his hands trace across your skin, soft, lovingly, like he’s reading a book of braille, makes you think otherwise. He doesn't leer at the curves of your body like he normally does. His eyes scan across your body, looking for any sign of injury.

When he deems you clean enough, and your skin has turned a nice shade of pink from the hot water, he lets you go. You're the first to get out, drying yourself off. You never realized how cold the room was before.

He hauls you into his arms. You do little to protest, which worries him.

The King of Curses has no need for sleep. The bed mostly serves for asthetic purposes, though he's not opposed to fucking you across any flat surface, you seem to favor softer ones.

Much like the tub, his bed is large enough to fit several of you. You feel dwarfed by its size. The man is huge, he needs a bed to fit. You could sprawl out as wide as possible and never have any of your limbs hanging over the sides.

He follows you, silent.

He can't recall ever letting any of his pets share his bed before. Some have tried. Tried. He can't recall any of them surviving as long as you have, either. He finds himself irritated at the thought of anything bad ever happening to you.

He doesn't join you in bed.

He doesn't need sleep the same way humans do. He can, but if he were to decide not to, it would bring no harm to him. He used to never dream. It was something he did, back when he was human, but that time has long passed. But whenever he dreamed, he’d wake up next to you. Experiences like that made him realize just why humans like to sleep so much. Before he never woke up rested; he was never tired in the first place.

You shove the covers aside and crawl underneath. They smell like him. He snubs out the candle burning on the side table with his index finger and thumb. Though it's dark, there’s enough light in the room to make out his much-larger form.

You shiver, although sweat forms along your skin in a thin sheen. Sukuna knows it's not cold. He sits on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. The back of his hand presses to your forehead. You’re burning up.

You were warm before, but he thought it was because of the bath. He’s not really sure what to do. It's rare moments like these that he's forced to face your mortality. He knows you're fragile—compared to him—but he can't bear the thought of something bad happening to you.

One of his large hands moves to cup your cheek. It's just as warm as your forehead. The pad of his thumb runs across your cheekbone.

"Stay with me." You say. You stretch your arms out towards him, making grabbing motions with your hands.

You’re not one to beg. Even when faced with death, you look it straight in the eyes. Call it bravery, or lack of self preservation. He admired that about you. You ignored your mortality because it did not matter to you.

“What's the matter, pet?”

“I don't feel too good.” You say.

Though he doesn't say it, he can tell.

“I’ll get Uraume-”

“No,” your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him back towards your chest, “no. I’m okay.”

He settles down beside you in bed, on top of the covers. When he opens his arms, you go right into them. He makes sure to keep the blankets tucked around you. Sukuna runs warm naturally. You huddle close to him, trying to steal his warmth. Though your face feels abnormally warm, you shiver. His much larger body lays partially on top of yours, his head resting on your chest, ear pressed to your skin. He can hear your heartbeat. Steady, and alive. Something low in your chest rattles when you breathe.

He should get a servant to bring you water, or some tea. It occurs to him how little he knows about the mundane things humans do to make themselves feel better. Not that he ever needed to care. In all the years you’ve been by his side, he’s never seen anything like this happen. He can't decide, and instead calls for both. If you need medicine, he’ll get that too, but you don't seem to be at that point. Uraume knows more about humans than he does. He’s no doctor, but he’ll work. If he asks you, you’ll just say you’re fine.

He holds the cup up to you, beckoning you to drink. The glass is cold against your lips. Even as your hands wrap around it, he doesn't let it go. He sets the empty glass on the side table with a soft thunk.

His large hand smoothes over your head, brushing your hair out of your eyes. His nails feel nice against your scalp. Nothing about the man is soft, but when he’s left alone with you, moments like this are bound to happen. You allow yourself to be pet. The heat, combined with the weight of his body, threatens to lull you off to sleep. The ache in your joints keeps you from doing so.

When he kisses you, you taste like a curse.

[randomwritingguy]

Love in the Madhouse (Harley Quinn x Reader) Part 1

Love in the Madhouse Part 1

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

The obnoxious, repetitive sound of my alarm blasts my eardrums as I slowly awake from my deep sleep. I sit up on my old, worn-down bed as I rub my eyes. Once I’m done, I check my digital clock and see the time written in red digits.

07:00

Two more hours till work. Good thing I live closely to my place of work.

Before I can even start to get ready for work, however, the phone that lies on the desk next to my bed starts vibrating frantically to the point where it starts slightly moving.

God dammit, not even five minutes.

I grab my phone and immediately answer the call without looking at the caller ID. I don’t need to. There is only one person who would call me this early. “Hey, Penny.”

“Hey, Y/N.” she responds, her voice gentle and soft. “I hope I’m not ringing up too early.”

I open my mouth to respond, only to being cut off by a yawn.

Penny chuckles at what she hears, finding my display of tiredness amusing. “I guess that answered my question.”

Yeah, no shit.

“You called up just to make fun of me?” I sarcastically respond back, rising from my bed to walk to the living room. It looks exactly as it did before I went to bed: full of papers scattered everywhere. The vague memory of me spilling my documents in my tired state washes over me as I groan internally. This is too much for a morning, especially for a working day.

“Can’t a girlfriend phone up their partner?” she teasingly responds.

If it was any other day I would have found this funny. This was not one of those days. Still, however, I persist.

“Yeah, yeah.” I reply. “At least I get to hear your voice before heading to work.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet. You always have your way with words, dear.”

“If you say so.” I dryly reply, too tired to come up with any other response.

“You excited about tonight?”

Huh?

“Tonight?”

“Yeah, we’re going to Pauli’s Diner after you finish work tonight, remember? We made plans about it a couple days ago. Don’t tell me you forgot about it…”

I detect a trace of sadness as she trails off. Shit. I completely forgot about that.

“No, no, of course not.” I lie to her with fake excitement. “I’m still tired from waking up. Brain is not fully working yet, you know?”

I hear a sigh of relief on the other end. “Good. I’ve been really excited about it. It’s going to be great!”

“Yeah…”

The conversation goes on for a few minutes, talking about simple mundane stuff. As she talks about something I couldn’t care less about, I look back at the clock. I’m planning on getting to work around 08:15-08:30 ish so I can have a break before I start. If there is time to get ready, it is now.

“Penny, I would love to talk more but I really need to get ready for work.”

“Okay, love you.“

“Love you too.”

I silently hang up and place them onto the kitchen counter.

Dammit.

Three words. Three simple words. A while ago they were full of genuine energy, happiness, and love. Nowadays it feels rehearsed.

I still remember when I first met Penny. We were both students at Gotham University. I was studying psychology and she was learning finance. We shouldn’t have met, really. The chances of seeing each other were so slim. And yet on a cold October day, when I was late to one of my lectures, a caffeine addicted student that was me accidentally ran right into her. One small talk and here we are. We’ve been dating for the past few years. The first couple years, it was amazing. I felt like I was made of gold. Now, somehow, that gold has begun to rust and corrode away. It’s not her fault. Really, it isn’t. It just…happened. Over time the relationship just felt…bland. I didn’t get excitement or thrill anymore. Most of time I have to fake it for Penny’s sake.

I should break up with her. I really should. And I plan too…just not yet.

I’m such a coward, I know that, but…Penny is one of the only few things that make me feel…alive anymore. Or, at least, close to it. Without her…the closest thing that could replicate the same effect as Penny was my job…

…at Arkham Asylum.

Speaking of which, I really should get ready for work.

  I arrive at 8:30 sharp as usual. Everything is the same as I left it last Friday. The same narrow, almost claustrophobic, corridors, the same large, dusty framed painting of the warden by the reception desk and the same old and tired doctors with all the hope they once had vanished. And that is not even mentioning the same variety of inmates or, like some guards like to describe them as, “pyschos”.

I haven’t worked here for too long. In fact, last week was the one-year anniversary of me being a psychiatrist at Arkham. I still remember my first day. Everything seemed so bright. My love for Penny burned as bright as the sun and my optimism and passion were through the roofs. I had so many ideas on how to cure Gotham’s rogues gallery, so many dreams of curing this city from the ilness that has plagued its roots for far too long.

Many doctors at Arkham merely scoffed or rolled their eyes at my naivety when I first arrived, claiming that I will soon lose them in this hellish place.

My love for Penny was lost. My passion? My determination to save this city? Absolutely not.

And that passion, that determination, led me to my first breakthrough:

My successful treatment of Gotham’s infamous Julian Day, once the criminal known as the Calendar Man.

It was tough, it was exhausting, and required a lot of patience of Mr Day telling me all the monstrous crimes he committed on certain holidays, but it was all worth it. Coincidentally, last week was also when Julian was released from Arkham Aslyum as a cured, sane man. I don’t know what he’s going to do, but I’m just glad I cured a piece of evil that stenches the city.

The ill in Gotham can be cured. I was sure of it then and I am sure of it now, and Julian Day is living proof.

I walk into my office and casually placed my bag on the sofa and my files on my desk. It was decently sized and decently cleaned. I haven’t really decorated mine as much as others have. Some have tons of picture frames of their families and friends on their desks and called it a day. Others have nothing at all. As for me, I don’t have any pictures of my family. Not anymore at least. I haven’t spoken to my parents in years since I told them I wanted to be a psychiatrist rather than a gymnast like they wanted me to be so I could carry on the family tradition. I don’t care, though. Not anymore. All I have on my desk is a picture of me and Penny hanging out at an amusement park a year ago.

The thought brings my attention to that very same picture, lying there at the right corner of my desk. I haven’t moved it in so long that dust surrounds the frame. I carefully lift it up and examine it closely. In front of a giant Ferris wheel there is Penny, her beautiful black hair curled up into a ponytail and her bright blue eyes shining with excitement, grinning without a care in the world, and me, who shares that exact grin.

I remember that time. It was a good memory. It was before everything in this relationship went to shit, on my side anyway. I felt…alive.

“There’s my favourite doctor!”

The joyous voice snaps me out of my thoughts as I turn to look at its origin.

Of course, it was him. I recognise that carefree voice, that short black beard, the warm, honey-like eyes, and the messy brown hair from anywhere: my best friend, David.

“There’s my favourite security guard.” I joyously respond back. I place the picture frame back onto my desk, now long forgotten like it once was.

David and I met during my very first experience of a riot at Arkham when Basil Karlo was trying to escape. I would have been killed if he hadn’t intervened. Since then, we have been best friends.

The security guard walks up to my desk holding up a newspaper in his hands and plants it on it right in the centre.  “Sorry to tell you, bud, but your breakthrough with Calendar Man has been overshadowed.”

I glance at the headline of the paper. There, in big, bold, black letters it says: “BATMAN SAVES MAYOR FROM CLOWN PRINCE OF CRIME”

Why am I not surprised?

“Eh, it’s fine.” I tell him, shrugging as I do so. “I didn’t become a psychiatrist to be famous. I did it to save lives.”

My genuine tone makes David chuckle. “Always an optimist.”

I chuckle back. “Hey, that’s what you like about me.”

He hums in agreement. “That is true. Not many doctors tend to be optimistic after a while. The fact that you’re still hopeful is an achievement in itself.”

He’s right. I can’t name a single doctor who starts their day with a smile.

“I’m one of a kind.” I smartly tell him. “Anyway, when did that stuff with Joker and the Mayor happen?”

My question leaves David open mouthed, his jaw nearly dropping to the floor. “Are you for real? It happened last night!”

Last night?!

“What? Seriously?!” I tell him, as I glance back at the opening article. Yeah, it does say the attack happened last night.

“Yeah! It happened eleven at night, it was crazy! How did you miss it?!”

Ah…that explains it.

“I might have fallen asleep from utter exhaustion.” I told him, rubbing the back of my neck.

My friend sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I thought you said you were going to relax a bit after our last conversation.”

I nervously chuckle at that, a spark of guilt forming in my gut. “I know, David. I just can’t help myself. I really want to help the patients here.”

He looks back up at me and his face softens slightly. “Yeah, I know, but you can’t help anyone if you look like you’re about to pass out.”

I know he’s right. It’s the truth. But it’s hard to relax nowadays. It’s hard to stop doing one of the few things that make me feel more alive than ever.

Still, to ease his conscious, I relent. “Okay, okay, you’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll try to relax next time.”

My reassurance seems to bring my friend relief as the tension from his body is released. Before either of us could say another word, however, a monotone female voice erupts the intercoms.

“Can Dr. Y/N L/N please visit Professor Hugo Strange’s office.”

Shit, not Strange.

“Uh oh.” David speaks up, slight worry in his voice. “You got to visit Strange.”

I groan loudly, rubbing my hands down my cheeks dramatically. “Fuck sake. I hope he’s in a good mood today.”

Strange is quite possibly the most brilliant mind in this place, far smarter than all the doctors here. I heard he travelled around the world learning a variety of psychological methods to help in his therapy for his patients. He’s so good that he has even caught the eye of Warden Sharp. I was so excited to see him when I first got here, so happy to see a brilliant professor at last. When I finally met him, he didn’t even bat me an eye. He quickly walked past me, bumping shoulders in the process, and rudely commented that I looked unprofessional. Since then, I learned that Strange is certainly not the man I thought he was. He cares very little about his patients nor his co-workers. In all honesty it seems like he’s only a professor just so he could manipulate his way into becoming famous and having some level of power.

And now I have been summoned to his office. Terrific.

David pats me on the back and walks out of the room, muttering a sympathetic “Good luck.” Before he vanishes from view.

Okay, Y/N, calm down. Maybe it won’t be so bad.

After all, what’s the worst that could happen?

  This is the first time I am ever in Professor Strange’s office and, quite frankly, it is just as I imagined. The atmosphere is cold and distant, much like the owner itself, with every piece of necessary equipment meticulously organised with not a single item out of place. The only picture that I can see on the dull, grey walls is Strange’s framed P.H.D degree.

A rough cough interrupts my thoughts as I turn to see the man of my thoughts himself, sitting behind his desk. His eyes behind the circular specs of glasses are just as chilling as the atmosphere in this room, his short brown beard so sharp it could cut you just by looking at it, and his pure white uniform resembling a mad scientist from a science fiction movie.

“Good morning, Doctor L/N.”

I gulp at the hard voice that emits from the man’s mouth. Its full of power and confidence. He has complete control of the situation.

“Good morning, Professor Strange.”  I reply back, trying to mimic his confidence.

Strange gestures the chair in front of the desk with right hand, his eyes never leaving mine. “Please, have a seat.”

I slowly but surely make my way over there, each step feeling like a lifetime. When I finally sit down, I realise how close we are. His dead eyes have not blinked once.

“Now, Doctor L/N, I understand you have quite a busy schedule today so I will not waste our time.” Strange coldly states. “I am sure you are aware of last night’s incident.”

I nod slowly in confirmation. “Vaguely, Professor Strange. I only know that Batman saved the Mayor from the Joker from the newspaper.”

Apparently, my answer seemed to irritate the professor, who proceeds to huff in response. “Vaguely? Have you been living under a rock?”

Did he just ask that? That fucking ass-

-No. Stay calm, Y/N. Just stay calm.

I take a deep, long breath in an attempt to calm myself. Once I release it, I try to give the nicest answer possible. “I was quite tired last night from my work, so I had an early night. I only just heard about the incident a few short minutes ago.”

The professor hums in acknowledgement. “I see. So, I take it you are unaware that Harleen Quinzel is a patient once again at our establishment?”

Harleen Quinzel?! Harley Quinn is here?!

Surprisingly, I have not once seen her as a patient in the asylum. I heard from some of the guards and doctors that she and her “boyfriend” escaped during a riot over a year ago. But now she’s back?!

I force my face and tone of voice to remain neutral to disguise my shock. Whether I succeeded or not is unknown. “I was unaware of that news.”

His eyes still have not left my own. Not even once. “Of course. She was captured by the Batman during the attack at City Hall and was brought here. The Joker, on the other hand, escaped his grasp. From what I heard him and the GCPD are trying to locate him.”

I nod slowly at his words, trying to understand the point he’s making…but failing. “With all due respect, Professor Strange, but how does this relate to me?”

The man huffs again, clearly impatient and frustrated that I have not figured out whatever he’s planning. “Who are the patients you are currently treating, Doctor L/N?”

My patients? How are they connected? Shouldn’t he know that anyway?

“Waylon Jones, Edward Nashton, Victor Fries, and Harvey Dent.” I carefully list out.

“And I believe Mr. Dent is your more recent patient out of the rest after the leave of Julian Day, am I correct?” he continues.

“Yes, sir.” I reply.

“I see.” He simply says. “Well then, I am sure Mr Dent would not mind too much when he is transferred to another doctor.”

TRANSFERRED? ANOTHER DOCTOR?

“Transferred?!” I immediately respond, leaning forward in a flash. “Why is he being transferred to someone else? I voluntarily chose to tackle Mr Dent’s case, Professor Strange. Not many doctors around here have done that.”

My upset reaction does not move Strange in the slightest. In fact, I can see a smirk slowly forming on the left side of his lips. He’s enjoying this.

“Because, Doctor L/N, you will be focused on another patient. Specifically, Miss Quinzel.”

WHAT?!

HARLEY QUINN IS GOING TO BE MY PATIENT? HARLEY QUINN? THE WOMAN WHO BIT OFF A DOCTOR’S EAR THAT ONE TIME?! THE HARLEY QUINN WHO IS OFTEN TO SAID TO BE CRAZIER THAN THE JOKER?! THAT HARLEY QUINN?!

“Sir, with all due respect, I don’t think this is a wise decision.” I carefully explain to him, trying my hardest not to make him mad. “Miss Quinzel has shown to be quite dangerous around the doctors a lot of the time. I heard she even bit an ear off of one of them.”

Despite my caution, my words cause Strange to sneer violently. “And yet you have no problem having an animal as your patient.”

That fucking asshole. Of course, he brings Waylon into it.

“Waylon is not an animal.” I grunt out, my teeth grating as I say it. “He is a human being. A person, just like the rest of us.”

Strange then has the absolute audacity to sarcastically laugh at my statement as if I was telling a funny joke. “Don’t fool yourself, Croc is an animal. He is cannibalistic killer who hates humanity.”

I have been Waylon’s doctor for the past few months now. While it took a while to get through to him, he eventually warmed up to me when I actually treated him like a person unlike everyone else. From what he has told me about his past, I certainly don’t blame him for hating humanity.

“Waylon is learning.” I tell him. “Progress is slow, but it’s progress nonetheless.”

Strange rises from the desk and walks to a file cabinet at the left corner of the room. He opens one of the draws and quickly pulls out a file and places it on the desk right in front of me. In big, bold letters I see the name “DR. HARLEEN FRANCIS QUINZEL”

“If you have no problem “helping” that animal then I’m sure you will have no problem helping your new patient.”

No, no, no, this cannot be happening.

“But why me?”

“Why not you?” he counters. “You have only been employed at Arkham for a year and you managed to, quote on quote, “cure” one of Gotham’s infamous killers. Miss Quinzel is one of the most dangerous criminals in the city. Warden Sharp himself believes that you can get through to her for the benefit of Gotham.”

Ah…now I see what this is about.

“Is this about “the benefit of Gotham”…or is this about helping the Warden’s mayoral campaign?”

It’s no secret that Warden Sharp cares more about his reputation and ambitions to be mayor than his co-workers and patients, much like Strange himself (no wonder they get along). When Julian Day was released, Sharp received nothing but praise. If I cure Harley Quinn herself then he would win the election by a landslide.

My accusatory question makes Strange sneer yet again and proceeds to lean forward until our faces are inches apart, his eyes glaring daggers right into mine.

“Remember your place, Doctor L/N.” he spits out. “You are going to take this case and you are going to help Miss Quinzel, otherwise I recommend you should explore your career somewhere else. Are we clear?”

What?! He’s going to fire me if I don’t do this job?! He can’t do that! Right?

But then again…he does supervise all the other doctors. And I think there was that one time where he fired a doctor who couldn’t meet his absurd standards…

He’s going to actually fire me if I don’t do this job, huh? After that massive breakthrough I accomplished, I’m still a disposable asset to him? To the Warden who would no doubt listen to his favourite doctor?!

FUCK!

“Crystal.” I reply through gritted teeth, my anger evident.

My eventually compliance brings a smug smile on Strange’s lips, pleased by my reaction. “I am glad we came to an understanding, Doctor L/N. You’re first session with Miss Quinzel is tomorrow morning at 10:00am. That will give you plenty of time for you to have a look at her file. Good day.”

I slowly rise from my chair and grab the file, my eyes never leaving his. My heated gaze is an inch of my boiling anger, its intensity rising every damn second I’m in his office.

“Good day, Professor Strange.”

I walk back to my office, every step feeling like a lifetime, as I realise the reality of my situation.

That bastard! That fucking bastard! He thinks can do this to me?!

“Hey, there you are!”

I look up and see David approaching me, a concerned look written all across his features. “What’s wrong?”

I release a long, painfully heavy sigh as I give him my blunt answer.

“Harley Quinn is going to be my new fucking patient.”